


True Detectives

by Autumn_Maple_Tree



Series: The Ancestor [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 79
Words: 99,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Maple_Tree/pseuds/Autumn_Maple_Tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean finally know the truth. Gabriel and his brothers try to help the hunters fight the Darkness. Sam and Olle try to figure out what draws them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam tried to roll over, but realized he couldn't and has a moment of panic before he remembers, Olle. He smiles to himself and starts to shift around more slowly, without his normal sprawl. When he is re-positioned, Sam can just make out the bigger hunter, curled on his right side, facing the wall. The clock by the bed, which is what he was turning to see, showed just past six; not late enough for Olle's alarm, apparently. He draped himself across the sleeping man, wishing they were both wearing a lot less than the sleep pants and t-shirts they each had on. Sam, always use to being the bigger, no matter who he was sleeping with, marveled at Olle's size by running his hands over the sleeping man's body; everything on him was just bigger and Sam realized he liked it, hoped everything was an apt assumption. The bed, though, was kind of small, even for Sam, and he wondered if Olle would mind if they slept in his room; he had never gotten more than a quick look past Olle, through the door, but the bed was huge. Sam followed all of his meandering thoughts back toward sleep, but, as he was drifting off, the alarm on Olle's phone indicated, with shrill beeping, it was six-thirty. 

Olle reaches out his arm, to turn off the alarm, before saying, “Baz, man, you're heavier than an angel should be.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, however, he realizes he is not in his room and Balthazar is not who is plastered to his back. 

Unfortunately, Sam is already pulling away, wanting to know, “Baz? Balthazar? You've slept with Balthazar?” 

Sam sounds shocked and offended by that. Olle, though, just takes his time stretching and rolling over. Since he has, technically, sort of, 'slept' with the angel, a lot, he hopes Sam will remember he and Beth are two people. Reaching out to pull Sam back into his personal space, he says, “You know I have trouble sleeping. Well, when Beth is working at night, he stays with me. Having someone in the bed with me helps me sleep. Lucifer did it while he was here with Cas.” He won't tell Sam about Gabriel, not yet; especially after his reaction to Balthazar. 

“Lucifer was here?” Sam asks. 

Olle yawns, “I needed help getting him back from Wichita as fast as possible. Lucifer healed him, kept him alive, and healed Metatron enough that he could talk to me. When the spell was done, when Cas wasn't dying, he needed an archangel close by, so he would heal faster. He was with us in Philly, too,” Olle says rubbing up and down Sam's back. “He was shielding you and Dean from dragon fire and, when Dean fell, he stabbed the dragon in the back. Angel blades won't kill a dragon, but it was enough of a distraction that Dean got under the truck. Then, when Kristoff had your brother by the throat, Lucifer's Grace was the only thing keeping Dean alive; healing as fast as the dragon could burn.”

“So he really has been trying to help since he got back,” Sam realizes. 

“He has,” Olle says. “How are we going to get your brother not to kill him? Kevin likes him,” Olle says uncertainly, “that should be a point in his favor, right?”

“Kevin likes him?” Sam is skeptical the kid would like any angel; he had barely even warmed up to Cas. 

Olle smiles, a chuckle running through him, “I needed Linda, and Kevin, to stay safe; in case we need the tablets. I went to them as soon as we got back from Hell. She let them stay with her until I could find a way to move them all to Kansas City. Luce needed someone to talk to, someone as intelligent, as analytical, as he is; Kevin was perfect for the job.”

“And the rest of them?” Sam wonders. “What are they doing back?”

Olle pulls Sam closer, running his hand down the hunter's ass and holding the back of his thigh while he rubs their forehead's together, “Luce can't function without Gabe, they are very much like you and Dean in that respect. Baz is a warrior, and an ass,” Olle grins, “but, deep under all that hedonism and nonchalance, he will always, always, do the right thing. Gabe, well, there are a lot of reasons God brought him back, I'm sure. Luce being a main one. Read the Bible, he is God's Messenger and the Angel of Justice; nothing significant ever gets done without him having a part to play.”

“Marie Luveau told me,” Sam says running his hand from Olle's temple to his chest, “God wasn't sending me visions because He would send The Messenger and The Ancestor. And now, here you both are,” Sam says before he pushes forward to kiss Olle. 

The slow, lazy pace of tongues sliding, hands holding, was something Olle felt like he could drown in. Sam tastes like apples and new books and a feeling Olle can't ever remember having; the hunter goes straight to his head. Olle tightens his grip on Sam's thigh and rolls them so he is on his back, Sam straddle his thighs, and they never stop kissing. 

Sam grins against Olle's mouth as he settles into his new position and thinks to himself that he may really like being the smaller one for once. He starts to inch his way, slowly, up Olle's thighs, to rub their morning wood together. The appreciative “Mhm,” Olle lets out as his hands come down to grip Sam's ass, get a chuckle from the Winchester as he starts a slow, easy rocking. 

Olle puts his hand in Sam's hair, finally breaking the kiss in favor of eye contact, to pant, “Fuck, you are just perfect, Winchester!” Sam lets himself be pulled down into a kiss a little more frantic than before as they both speed up their rocking. 

Just as Sam is about to suggest fewer clothes, his door opens and Dean's voice can be heard behind him, “Hey Sammy, have you seen Ol- Fuck, man, really! It's seven a m!” 

“Shit!” Sam says, lips still pressed against Olle's. 

The big man smiles. “What do you want Dean?” he asks without moving. They haven't actually stopped their rocking; it has just turned into an insistent grind and Olle doesn't want to move in case Sam realizes what he is doing and stops. 

“Coffee,” the hunter says like he can't remember what it was he did want, “and brain bleach,” he finishes. 

“Go away Dean,” Olle says seriously. The room is dark again when Dean shuts the door, footsteps disappearing down the corridor. 

“Is this okay?” Olle asks when he wiggles his hips, pushing their erection's together; Sam's is almost gone, he notices. 

“Would you mind,” Sam worries, looking down on him hesitantly, “if we just get up?”

Olle smiles and kisses him, “Of course not. Whatever you need is fine.”

“This all just seems like it is going really fast,” Sam says stretching to turn the lamp on before moving off of Olle to sit in the middle of the bed and look down at him. “It's not bad,” he assures the immortal. “It's just fast. And, it feels like all I've ever had was fast. Does that make sense?” he looks at Olle skeptically. 

Olle nods, “You were either just passing through or keeping part of yourself hidden and this isn't either of those things, so it's scary; I get that.”

Sam smiles and runs one hand through his hair, happy Olle understands. “Yeah, exactly. Thank you.”

“Come on,” Olle says sitting up. “If we're not going to do this, I'm going to go for a jog. I'm worried about this afternoon and blowing off some steam is just what I need.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiles, “that sounds great.”


	2. Chapter 2

At eight thirty, Olle makes his way from the shower in his room to the kitchen, where Dean is sitting alone, for coffee. “Sam still in the shower?” Olle asks as he sits opposite the oldest Winchester to pour himself a bowl of cereal. 

There is tension radiating off Dean as he grunts a, “You tell me,” at Olle before getting up for more coffee. 

'Just fucking great,' Olle thinks to himself as he starts to eat. “Dean,” Olle says seriously, looking up at the hunter, “if you're going to give me the 'I'll flay you alive' speech that's fine. But, you didn't seem to have a problem with whatever this is turning into, last night. Now, is Sam why you're pissed at me or is it something else?”

“I will, you know,” Dean says sitting back down opposite the immortal. “And, Sammy won't think about putting two and two together here, but you talk, an awful lot, about Gabriel, Gabe. Does the archangel, that could kill my brother with a thought, know what you're doing?” Dean is serious, angry as he pulls the cereal back across the table. 

“Who I am or have or will fuck,” Olle says evenly, “is absolutely none of your business Dean; unless you want to add your name to that list.” Dean just nods his head, mocking the big man, so Olle goes on, “Gabe and I,” he can't even go there. “I'm not with Gabe anymore, and, if you must know, yes, he does know that I like Sam and he knows that Sam likes me. He is not going to smite your brother.” Olle puts an end to the conversation and goes back to eating. 

Sam comes down the steps then and, after grabbing coffee, drops beside his brother to take his turn at the cereal box. “So,” he looks between the two men, “what are we going to do until everyone gets here?”

“Don't have a clue,” Dean says irate, getting up to take his bowl to the sink. 

“How about we train?” Olle says to Sam. “Hey Dean,” he laughs, twisting in his seat to talk to man still at the sink, “wanna kick the shit outta me?”

“Damn right I do,” the hunter grins. 

**

Sam thinks this is a bad idea; knows Dean can't beat Olle, even if he cheats. Neither of them would listen to him, though, so, after finding Cas, because they are going to hurt each other, the four of them make their way downstairs to the training floor. 

Olle hopes into the boxing ring as spry as a cat while Cas and Sam exchange a long look over Dean's head as he climbs in as well. Yeah, Sam thinks, this is going to be great. 

“Okay,” Olle says, hoping around the ring to loosen up, “three rounds, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. We start slow and get faster. You can keep your weapons, but just hand to hand Dean; I don't want to get stabbed and I don't want to kill you accidentally.”

Dean snorts, “You really think you'd do that?”

“Ask Cas what happened when he tried to wake me up outside Indianapolis,” Olle says. Dean looks over at the angel who just nods. “Sam, you've got a watch, you call time. After the first round, you can speed us up and slow us down too.”

“Is this really a good idea?” Sam asks looking down at his watch. 

“Of course it is,” Olle says. “We are all going to have to start getting better; we don't know what's coming.”

Sam shakes his head in agreement and calls, “Ready? Begin.”

**

Olle is pretty sure they don't need to know, yet, that he has been dealing in hand-to-hand combat with archangels since the beginning, so he lets Dean set the pace. The man is a good boxer, he has good form and good block, but his stamina is lacking. Olle is weeding him out, trying to figure out where he needs improvement. He is planning out the hunters future training schedule while they trade blows. Dean is open and Olle takes the shot, connecting with his right side, while making a note to work on the man's defense; he is too use to having a gun or a blade. Dean comes back quickly, though, and Olle has to focus on his own defense for a few minutes. Sam calls time not long after and Dean gets a hard right cross in after the bell. 

Dean's smirk turns into innocent apology when Sam comes over to check on Olle. Dean clipped him right on the cheekbone, he is going to bruise, but it isn't cut; Dean's hand will be sore for the effort; that is some consolation. “I'm fine Sam,” Olle says laughing it off, but he leans into the hunter and says, “get us up to full speed near the end of this round. I promise I won't hurt him, much.”

“I'd rather you didn't hurt him at all,” Sam says seriously, watching his brother talk to Cas while he shakes his head. 

“If he'd talk to me,” Olle says, “it wouldn't have to be this way.”

“Is this because of us?” Sam asks angrily, turning like he is going to pick his own fight with Dean. 

“No,” Olle reaches out to take Sam's wrist, “it's not Sam. It's about him. It's about him finally being face to face with someone who cares about you and him worried they could do to you all the things he has done to you. I can take a beating from Luce, I can take a beating from him. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine.” Olle reaches out then and kisses him quickly, before pushing him, with a smile, back to the edge of the ring.

Sam's face is flaming but the dimpled grin he has lets Olle know it was worth it. Dean must have seen it too, though, because, when Sam calls a start to round two, he comes out of his corner with a hard left to Olle's ribs. As the round continues, Sam gradually speeds them up and, with about six minutes left, tips them up to top speed. Dean picks up the pace, he is tired, though, Olle can tell. Both men have landed a few good hits and Olle's cheek is starting to swell while Dean sports what will be some choice bruises to his torso soon enough. Olle speeds up as well, though, and Dean is forced to defend himself quickly as Olle lands a jab to Dean's left eye before going in for a double to Dean's ribs and ending with a right cross so they now have matching bruises. 

Dean staggers back a few steps, his eye is bleeding, but he comes back at Olle with a series of hits to the man's torso before Sam call an end to the round. Dean turns down Cas' offer to heal his eye while Olle is sure two of his ribs are broken and he knows a couple of Dean's are too.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey Olle,” Dean calls from his corner, “how about, next round, anything goes?”

Olle chuckles, “Only if you let Cas heal you first; I'm pretty sure I broke a few of your ribs and your eye's gonna swell shut in the middle of the round if you don't.”

“What about you?” Dean asks. 

“I got a couple cracked ribs,” he says, “but I'll live either way.”

Cas heals Dean and Olle waits for Sam to call a start to the round. This, he figures, is a bad idea; there is no way he is going to hurt Dean and he is pretty sure the hunter intends on killing him. When Sam calls a start to the round, Dean comes out like a man with a mission from God. He is fast and sharp, pushing Olle around the ring with violent combinations as the bigger man defends himself, waiting for an opening. Finally, as Sam calls ten minutes, Dean drops his defense and Olle lays into him with a series of hits to the face. 

Olle knows he is playing Dean's game here, serving himself right up exactly where the hunter wants him, but he figures he can give Dean this one to calm his nerves and let him feel superior before everyone gets here later and things go all to Hell. Olle backs the man into the corner, but Dean comes out, face black and blue, eye cut open and bleeding again, with a knife. Olle takes a six inch gash down his left forearm before he puts distance between them. He uses his height and his weight to shove Dean back into the corner while he pulls his long sleeved shirt off and wraps it around his arm as a weapon, a shield, and a bandage. When Dean comes at him again, Olle wraps the hunter's wrist in the arm of the shirt and, spraining his wrist, takes the knife from Dean to send it skidding across the canvas. Dean knees Olle in the stomach then and, when the doctor bends forward to catch his breath, Dean gets the bigger man in a headlock. 

Olle refuses to hurt Dean, but his is starting to get pissed by the hunter's needs to hurt him. He throws his head back, hitting Dean right in the nose, and turns his elbow into Dean's ribs, breaking them again. Olle rolls away then, but Dean comes up with his boot knife and Olle sighs as both men stagger to their feet. 

Sam calls five minutes as Dean lunges and Olle blocks. The two circle for a time, but Dean manages to get in a few good cuts before Sam calls an end to their sparing match. Olle's thigh is gashed open again, though not as bad as it was in Idaho, and there are several smaller cuts on his arms and face as well as one bad one up his left side. 

Olle just drops to his knees where he is as Sam makes his way over to him and Dean staggers over to Cas so the angel can heal him; he is gasping pretty bad and his eye is swollen shut. “Why'd you let him do that?” Sam asks helping the big man up. 

Olle chuckles, “He feels better, doesn't he? Now,” Olle gasps, “he won't be as on edge when everyone gets here.”

“Yeah, well, lets get Cas over here to fix you up,” Sam says starting toward the edge of the ring. 

“Fuck no,” Olle groans as he lets Sam help him out of the ring. “I've lost too much blood and my ribs are totally fucked. Cas isn't strong enough to heal me and Dean. Get me to the locker room and I'll get one of the guys to come do it.” Sam doesn't argue, he helps Olle across the hall and down on a bench. “Luce,” the big man prays, gasping in pain from his ribs and trying not to bleed on everything. 

“What the Hell happened to you?” the archangel asks appearing in front of the hunters.

“He thought it would be a good idea to let Dean kick his ass,” Sam says shaking his head. 

The angel reaches out a finger to the injured man's head and heals him. “Why did you do that?” he wonders. “Gabriel has been looking forward to fighting with him all day,” he chuckles. “Now, you know he is going to do something hateful just to be an ass.”

“Fuck, I didn't think of that,” Olle laments. “I was trying to stop Dean from doing the same thing.” Olle looks down at himself then, “My clothes, Luce, can you fix my clothes?” he wonders. 

The angel frowns, “I'm not sure I know how.”

“It's just like the molecules Luce, put'em back together.” 

Olle waits while the angel stares at him before he exclaims, with a snap, “I think I get it.” Apparently he does, because Olle's clothes are no longer cut or frayed. 

“Thanks man,” Olle claps him on the back. “We'll see you in a couple hours.” With a nod the angel is gone. 

“You okay?” Olle asks, looking up at Sam.

The hunter nods, “I am. It's weird, he is almost totally different than he was. It's like his isn't even the same angel he was.”

“He is very different now than I've ever seen him, it's true,” Olle says getting up. “In the beginning,” Olle shakes his head, “he was powerful and beautiful and just so much light. The Morningstar, the Light Bringer, those names were aptly given. Then,” his voice turns dark, “you couldn't see him for the black void of the Mark. When we found him in Hell,” Olle smiles sadly. “I was so afraid I'd have to kill him; just to put him out of his misery. He is doing better than I ever could have imagined. If I had to wait on him for ten-thousand years, I'd still say that.”

Cas comes in then, “Olle, I've come to heal you.” 

“Thanks Cas,” Olle says turning away from Sam, “but I got Luce to come do it. I know your Grace is still damaged and Dean is, should be, your first priority.”

“Yes,” he says slowly, “of course. Thank you.” 

Cas turns to go and Olle is worried now he has hurt his feelings. “Hey Cas,” Olle calls out. “Thank you for checking on me.” With a nod and a smile the angel leaves them alone. “I've got to do something about his Grace,” the big man mutters. 

“What?” Sam asks. 

Olle just shakes his head, “Something we can talk about later.” Olle pulls Sam in by the waist, other hand in his hair, and kisses him slowly. “I just can't get enough of you,” he says with a smile when they break for air. 

“Come one,” Sam smiles, kissing him again, “lets get upstairs and get everything ready for later.”


	4. Chapter 4

By noon, Olle has helped Sam clean off two tables in the library and push them together, there is a conference room between the infirmary and dining hall, but it is currently housing at least a dozen crates of uncatalogued books and artifacts for the library and archive. They set up their laptops, all three of them, and Sam pulls out a white legal pad and a handful of pens; much to Olle amusement. They both pretend not to notice Dean hiding angel blades all over the room, but Olle sits three decanters of whiskey on the table and gives every seat a glass. When they are finished, the big man looks at the young hunter and says, “Now, the important part,” before passing through the kitchenette they all use, grabbing a few things, then going through the dining hall, and into the industrial kitchen Dean has scrubbed from top to bottom but never used. 

“What are we doing?” Sam wants to know. 

“Coffee,” Olle says pulling out two three gallon coffee urns and setting them to brew. “If we don't have coffee, Gabe will just snap it up and I'm trying to prevent snapping; anything that will make Dean nervous.” Sam laughs at that and Olle smiles before heading over to the stove and pulling a huge rondeau from the shelf. 

“Snacks? They don't eat,” Sam says. 

Olle laughs as he dumps sugar and butter into the pan, “You invite a Triskster and don't provide sweets, what do you think will happen?” Sam concedes the point with a smile and a hand through his hair. “They don't need to eat. I don't know why Cas doesn't, but Baz and Gabe like it, Linda and Beth do eat, and Luce has been learning. Beth fed him stuffed French toast and bacon as his first meal, he'll try anything we give him.”

Sam chuckles, coming over to stand closer to Olle as he cooks. When there are two full-sized sheet pans lined with parchment and covered in no-bake peanut butter, chocolate oatmeal cookies, they grab a trolley and head back to the library. By one-thirty, there are plates of cookies on the table and an entire coffee station set up on two of the side tables in the corner; Olle even thinks to put four bottles of whiskey under the table in case they need them.

“I guess we're as ready as we'll ever be,” Sam says looking around. He hopes Dean can be reasonable about this, not let his anger overwhelm him. He is even, it occurs to him, shockingly, a little worried about Lucifer. The archangel is not what he was, he understands that now, but he knows Dean won't see it, see him, that way. 

With a nod, Olle says, “Let's go grab some lunch. Sam follows him back to their kitchen wondering about how things are going to go. They find Dean there, heating leftovers from dinner, and they all eat quietly. 

**

Beth stretches lazily at the sound of the alarm. On her stomach already, she crawls up the enormous bed to turn the shrill beeping off and sighs, “We have to do something about Gabe before we leave.”

Balthazar rolls over, pulling her into him, she smiles into the warm curve of his neck and playfully wraps her teeth around the tendon there. “He is going to be a miserable bastard no matter what,” his brother says shifting to his back, so she is straddle his waist, ass pressing down against his growing length. “He is going to play Trickster full on just to agitate Olle; knowing it will grate on Sam and Dean. Sam won't understand why, unless you're an idiot and have told him about my brother already.”

“Which I'm not; I hope,” Beth says sitting up and using her hand to guide the thick length of Balthazar's cock inside of her. With a sigh she sits flush against his thighs and starts to rock slowly. 

The angel sits up, reaching out to cup her firm breast with his left hand, tweaking the nipple as he licks into her mouth with lazy, wondering strokes and she whimpers as his other hand smooths down her abdomen and into her soft curls, finding her clit. He is ravenous now, moving down her neck to lave and suckle her neglected breast while she speeds up her movements. Beth lets her head fall back as she wraps her arms around the angel's neck and drops all of her weight down on him only to lift back up and do it again. 

After so many months together, they have found a natural rhythm that has her clenching around him with a groan before he is even close to finishing. With a thought, the angel has reversed their positions, she is on her back, legs over his shoulders, as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in hard and fast. Beth braces one hand on the headboard as she pushes into every thrust, the almost too much of it all about to send her spiraling over the edge again. Balthazar drops her legs then, pulling her up flush against him, body wrapped around his, as he continues to pound into her, hands roaming her back and thighs. He times his orgasm to the moment she clenches around him again with a strained, “Fuck, Baz! Oh, fuck, yes!”

They stay like that until they have both calmed down, before he lowers her back to the bed. “How about we get Luce,” the angel says, backing off the bed and continuing to talk as he goes into the bathroom for a warm washcloth, “and the three of us try to beat the Trickster out of him?”

The casual gentleness Balthazar treats her with now, especially considering their first night together, makes her smile. The humanness of his soft strokes, as he wipes away their mixed fluids, shows her his affection even though he continues to deny they are doing anything but having a good time. It worries her how much she cares about him, and how attached she is letting him get to her. They were never this close before, then again, she reasons, Balthazar had Legion in the beginning. What he would think of the man now, though, worries her as much as what Crowley would try to do with his affections. 

“We can try,” Beth says rolling off the bed to get dressed. 

They find Lucifer and Gabriel with Linda and Kevin, already in the training room. Kevin is reading one of their many journals; Beth smiles to herself at everything Gabriel has managed to teach the boy. Balthazar leaves the women to pull a bamboo pole from the wall and join his brothers; Lucifer is unmerciful in his assault on Gabriel and Balthazar joins him, the young archangel only faltering a little when he has to adjust to defending himself on two fronts. 

“What are they doing?” Linda asks, shifting into warrior 2 pose on her yoga mat. 

“Kevin made you read the books, right?” Beth asks watching the two lay into their brother, who was starting to take a bit of a beating. At Linda's nod, she goes on, “Gabe loves to antagonize Dean, especially, because it gets a rise outta him, because it indulges that Trickster part of Gabe that just revels in the chaos.”

“He's done nothing but talk about how much fun it's going to be when Dean tries to kick his ass,” Kevin says looking up from his book. 

“That's what we're trying to avoid,” Beth says seriously, pulling her own poll off the wall and heading into the fray.


	5. Chapter 5

When Lucifer hears Olle's prayer, he excuses himself from their continued fight without a word and disappears. They have been at this for almost three hours, Gabriel still doing well enough against the three of them that he manages to land a more than glancing blow to his little brother's side once the Morningstar is no longer his prime attacker. Beth is quick to pick up the slack, though, having just rejoined the fight after a rest and some water. 

Lucifer's weapon striking the floating bamboo flooring echos through the room, putting a stop to their onslaught. “That's enough for now,” he says. “The ladies need to eat,” he talks while he comes over and, taking their weapons, goes to put them away. “Besides,” he smiles at his brother, “I think he's had enough for now.”

Beth and Linda make their way to the kitchen. Beth notices a loaf of fresh bread on the counter, “Gabe,” she asks as the angel comes in to get coffee, “where'd this come from?” She slices a pieces as she talks, pulling roast chicken, cheese, and hot mustard from the refrigerator. 

The archangel smiles, “Olle made it yesterday.”

Beth chuckles, “He's gonna be pissed when he realizes you took it.”

Gabriel shrugs, pulling his cup off the Keurig and adding sugar, “He said I couldn't have the pie.”

Coming over to make her own coffee, she shakes her head. Going back to the island, she picks up the two sandwiches and heads to the breakfast nook, looking out into the sunroom. Linda nods her thanks and the two eat as Gabriel heads back out of the kitchen, upstairs, with a huge piece of bread wrapped around some of the chicken. 

“Are you nervous?” Linda wonders when they are alone.

Beth smiles, “Maybe, I don't really know.” She takes a long drink of coffee and goes on, “I've never met them and I don't know what, if anything, Olle has told them about me, us.”

“Dean is going to take one look at you and lose his mind,” Linda laughs. 

Beth can't help but shake her head and chuckle. “That would be such a bad idea,” she says seriously. 

“It would be interesting to see what Balthazar would do to him,” Linda says casually. 

Beth shakes her head, “I fell into that when I shouldn't have, and it is starting to worry me. The very last thing I want to do is hurt him and I'm afraid I already have.”

“He's not naive,” Linda says. “He knows what you really are, who you really are. If he understands that, he knows enough to guard himself or is willing to suffer whatever consequences may come.”

“She is right, you know,” the angel himself says coming into the kitchen. Balthazar makes two sandwiches and, opting for beer, joins them at the table. “I'm a big boy,” he says dropping a fast kiss to Beth's full mouth, “I can take it.”

“It would be nice,” Beth says after she swallows, “if you didn't try to listen to every word that comes out of my mouth.”

“But it is such a lovely mouth,” he says around is own mouth full of food. “Come on Luce, I made you a sandwich,” Balthazar calls out and, in an instant, the archangel appears between Beth and Linda at the table. 

“Thank you,” he says picking up his food. 

“Where did you run off to earlier?” Beth is pretty sure she already knows, though.

“Olle and Dean were sparing and he thought it would be a good idea to let Dean win; with a knife,” he says taking a pull on the beer his brother got him. “Blood everywhere,” he shakes his head. “But, Sam seemed okay. I don't know how well Gabriel is going to do with the two of them, though. We need to watch him, them,” he says before returning to his sandwich. 

Beth just shakes her head, downing the last of her coffee and looking at her empty plate, thoughtful. “I'm more worried about Sam finding out about Gabe,” she says to her plate. “If Olle really likes him, that could really blow up in his face.”

Lucifer nods but swallows before he speaks, “Unless he has changed drastically since he got out of the Cage, Sam will need to know it all and, then, feel unworthy by comparison.” He shakes his head, “I don't know why he, of all people, would, but I know that's what he'll feel.”

“He doesn't recognize his own worth,” Beth says sadly. “I understand that. He has always been a freak, the boy with the demon blood, a vessel, and no one has ever been able to make him see his own worth; not even Dean. He still feels tainted.” Lucifer hangs his head, and Beth reaches out to rub his back before leaning into his shoulder, “Convincing you that, stuck in the Cage, you couldn't possibly be to blame is about as useless as telling Sam he is not an abomination; right?” Lucifer smiles, leans his head onto hers for a moment, then returns to his food. 

**

Standing alone in the shower, Beth wonder what is coming. She runs through the list of things she needs to talk to Olle about and worries, not for the first time, if they have given themselves enough time. Is Lucifer really read? That thought, more than any other, is what worries her. 

Clean and dry, Beth takes her time braiding the waist length mass of hair she really does want to cut, but the three long, thin, knives she hides in the braid are reason enough to keep it. Dressed in dark jean, brown boots, a hunter green t-shirt and a cream and pumpkin colored flannel, she makes her way downstairs to the armory for her weapons. Pulling on her shoulder holster, an exact replica of the modified one Olle wears, she loads it with an angel blade, her 45 caliber Taurus, and extra ammunition before sliding a long stiletto into the top. What follows is a series of knives, lock picks, matches, salt, holy water, and a flashlight. It is standard hunter gear, Olle wears the same at all times, and she feels better, grounded, by the added weight. 

Back in the kitchen, she pulls on the soft, brown leather jacket she found at Goodwill when it first started to get cold and she realized she had no winter clothes. Everyone is milling around, anxious, and Beth checks her watch, it is just a quarter til two and she looks everyone over, “Are we ready?” she asks. It is a loaded question and no one answers with more than a nod. “Okay then,” she comes over to take Balthazar's hand, “let's go. And, guys,” she says seriously, “Outside the front door, not inside. We need to let them feel like they are in control. We want them to trust us.”

With a thought, the house is empty for the first time since August. 

Beth shakes herself loose, nervous, as she heads down the steps to beat her fist on the door. With the angels behind her, Linda bringing up the rear, Beth sighs and prays to God, because she doesn't want anyone else to hear, that this goes as well as it needs to, better even. As the door opens, she takes a deep breath and plasters a small smile on her face.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean opens the door and, expecting Gabriel's smirking face, is absolutely floored by the beauty in front of him. She is short, only about five-six, with heavy curves in all the right places and lips; he smiles at the memory of every obscene thing ever said about his mouth because it applies here. Her face is square at the top and heart-shaped at the bottom with high cheekbones that draw attention to intelligent, almond shaped, hazel eyes, with long, soft lashes and full, arched eyebrows. There is a smirk, he notices, on her face and he realizes he is staring. 

“You must be Beth,” he says with a cocky leer since she already caught him staring. Moving out of the way, everyone files inside; Linda is last, and she greets Dean with a fond hug. “Come on then,” Dean says glaring at the angels, Lucifer especially, as he makes for the stairs. 

Olle and Sam come into the War Room then, from the kitchen, and Beth jogs past Dean, down the steps, and into Olle's arms. The big man picks her up into a hug and she wraps her legs around his waist, “Hey,” she grins kissing him a quick hello. 

Olle grins right back and the brothers see the unmistakable resemblance in their faces; they could be twins. “Hey,” he says just as happy to see her as she is him. “Can I put you down?” he laughs. When she shakes her head in firm denial, he merely laughs, shifting her to his hip like she were a child and she keeps laughing, arms around his shoulders. “Sam, Dean this is Beth.” The laughter in his voice as he turns around the room is part embarrassment, but he knows what she is doing. As the two men nod greeting at her shy, smile and wave, Olle leans into her ear, “Do you really think making us look clingy and overly excited is going to shift focus?” She just laughs, grinning again and shaking her head as she finally jumps down out of his arms. 

“Hey Cas,” she says all smiles. The angel had disappeared after healing Dean and everyone turned to see him standing in the corridor leading to their bedrooms. 

“Hello,” the angel says quietly, coming slowly into the room. “Gabriel, Lucifer,” he nods greeting to his brothers. “Balthazar,” he says, barely making eye contact. 

“For the love of fuck, Gabe,” the blond angel says then, “make him remember he already knew so we don't have to go through our awkward reintroduction again.”

Lucifer snaps and Cas stops for a moment, dazed, before he looks up, “Hello Balthazar,” he says happily then. 

“Hello Cas,” the angel smiles. 

“What just happened?” Dean looks around, suspiciously. 

“I'm sorry Dean,” Cas says then, turning to his friend. “When I came back with Olle from Philadelphia, Metatron would have died, I was not strong enough to heal him, so Olle prayed to Gabriel.”

“And?” he wants to know. 

“I knew, when they told me everything, when I saw Lucifer, we were not ready to know they were back, were helping.” Cas comes over to look at Beth and chuckles, “They are a lot to take in. Gabriel, I asked Gabriel to make me forget,” he says turning to look his best friend in the eye. “So I wouldn't have to lie to you; so they could have a little more time.”

“Okay,” Olle says then, watching Gabriel watch Cas watch Dean, “let's all go into the library. I made cookies and there is whiskey, and coffee.” 

Sam had moved away during Cas' little confession and Olle saw him waiting for them; coffee and cookie already at his seat while he was standing in the corner, another cookie in his hand, talking quietly to Kevin. 

The prophet comes over, then, and wraps Dean is a hug. Dean pulls away in shock, “Kevin, are you alive?” He looks around, “Is he alive?”

Kevin laughs, “No Dean, I'm just,”

“Mojoed,” Gabriel says coming into the room and heading straight for the plate of cookies Olle dumped on the table with the coffee. 

Kevin smiles, “Yeah, Gabe, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Dean wants to know.

Gabriel wags his right hand at the hunter, where the ring sits, and, around a mouth full of cookie, while shoveling sugar into his coffee cup, says, “He's supercharged as long as Luce or I wear the ring. All but human,” the angel says coming over to drop across the table from where Sam just sat. 

Beth cringes a little bit but, with a glare at Lucifer, he drops on one side and her on the other, across from Olle, while Cas sits with Balthazar further down the table. That, though, puts Lucifer right beside Dean and Beth gets up, dragging him over to get coffee and switches seats with him when they get back. 

Kevin and Linda set at the far end of the table and Dean snarks, “Is everyone done playing musical chairs?” 

Olle and Beth both take a deep breath and smile before Sam speaks, “Dean, come on man.” The older Winchester merely shrugs innocently at his brother, reaching for the whiskey. 

Beth sends a silent thought to Balthazar, asking him to make sure Dean cannot drink himself into oblivion; the angel is actually the most adept healer of them all, he can do it without touch and with such specifically targeted Grace he can fix a hangnail and leave a broken finger. The angel nods, smiling, and she clears her throat, “Olle, I was thinking this morning in the shower, we've had almost 9 liters of dragon blood in the armory refrigerator for over a month. I'm too short to use the forge, are you going to fix the sword? We could, probably, even make another.” 

“I will,” he says while everyone listens, “as soon as we get some things settled and I can spend a week or so at home. The Yule moon will be perfect to make extra blades, too,” he says snagging a cookie from the middle of the table. 

“You're a bladesmith?” Sam asks looking between him and Beth. 

They smile, “Most of the house was custom built for someone Olle's size,” Beth informs them. “We didn't think, I guess, about all the step stools I'd have to buy,” she laughs. 

“You're over a foot shorter than he is,” Dean comments. “Why?”

“She looks just like,” but Sam stops before he says her name and looks between them, “I'm sorry, but you really do,” he says turning back to look at Beth, “you're beautiful.”

She smiles, looking down and away, shaking her head; Gabriel reaches out to take her hand as the same time Olle reaches for Sam. Both offer a firm, reassuring grip and Beth turns back to Sam. “Thank you,” is all she says, letting go of the angel's hand, before the table goes quiet again. 

“Well,” Olle says as the silence starts to become uncomfortable, “we're here about Amara, aren't we? Let's talk about Amara.”


	7. Chapter 7

Everyone settles in, serious looks all around, and, when it is clear no one else is going to speak, Beth takes a deep breath and starts talking. “Sam and Dean didn't hear what we told Cas, what we told everyone, about Amara,”she starts. “We remember very little, and none of it really makes sense. It was cold and dark and painful, so painful,” she shakes her head. “Then He was there, taking us away form her, again, and the putting us back to together tore everything apart. Then,” she smiles and gestures, “they were there.”

“We can't say what happened next,” Olle says shaking his head thoughtfully. 

“It seemed like the next thing we were focused on was Lucifer and Gabriel; their agony,” Beth goes on quietly. “By then, she was gone.”

“I can't even say for certain,” Lucifer says then, “what Father did to banish her. He gave me the Mark and it called out to her, somehow. When she was there,” he concentrates, tries to remember. 

“There was a great battle,” Gabriel says then. “Legion and I pushing forward against her, with the Leviathan. The Host was working under the Grigori's command then standing between her and Dad while Lucifer stood apart. Suddenly, she was just gone while Lucifer began to scream,” his voice thickens, even now, at the memory. “He suffered for so long before he seemed to return to himself. By then, Dad was already gone and Michael had taken charge of the Host.”

“You were with Lucifer,” Sam asks, “the whole time?” When Gabriel nods, he goes on, “So, you have no idea what happened after? No idea when the tablets were written or if God left any information anywhere about her or the Mark?”

“No,” Gabriel says sadly. “I've wracked my brain trying to remember anything!” He is angry at himself, frustrated, and so tired. 

“It's okay little brother,” Lucifer says then. “It's not your fault. If only I'd been stronger, none of this would have ever happened. Even Olle did better than I did,” he says looking over at the big man. “He only gave in, in the end,” he chuckles, “to help you trick me into the Cage.”

Olle shakes his head, “I got the Mark from Cain, like Dean did, and Cain still had the blade. What you bore, Mark and Blade, forged together, would unmake a lesser being. What she, it, did to you was beyond imagining.”

“Wait and minute,” Dean interjects quietly. “You had the Mark?” he looks between Olle and Beth. “When?”

“They were the first Cain ever gave it to,” Lucifer says, “after I threatened him, forced him to make more demons just like him.”

“He didn't know it was strategic, at that point,” Beth says. “We had found a way into Hell and Gabriel had begun designing the Cage.”

“I thought it would be a safe way to keep him and Michael away from each other and to keep him, and whatever was happening to him, away from Creation,” Gabriel says looking into his coffee cup and reaching for the whiskey to add to it. “I had no idea,” he shakes his head, turning up his cup, “that the spells used to build the Cage, the things I created to keep him locked away, would turn into seals.”

“What do you man?” Sam asks, leaning forward. 

“Thanatos couldn't take him,” Gabriel says, “because of the Mark.”

“So,” Olle cuts in, “I forged the rings.”

“And we built the Cage around them,” Balthazar speaks for the first time. “All the while, waging war with Luce, Fallen, demons and Knights.”

Gabriel, Beth, and Olle nod before Gabriel continues, “Thanatos took one and three Fallen were chosen to take the others; they were Grigori and almost as old as Legion. We bound Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and all the Fairy lands into the Cage so it would be strong enough to hold him.”

“Magick that strong, though,” Beth picks up the conversation when Gabriel falls silent, “created the seals. Points of contact where that magick could be released and the Cage weakened.”

“The first Righteous Man to shed blood in Hell was Cain,” Olle says. “He killed an angel, not a Fallen, and their Grace and their blood were used to purify, protect, and ward the space where the Cage is so no one can find it. But.” 

“He used the Blade,” Sam says and Beth, Olle, and the angels nod. 

“Which created the First Seal,” Beth says. “Because the Darkness weeps out and pollutes everything it touches.”

“Why was Lilith the final seal?” Sam asks. 

“Because she, before even Cain,” Lucifer says sadly, “was the first thing, in all of Father's creation, I ever infected with the power of the Mark.”

“If she was infected by the Mark,” Sam wonders, voice getting loud as his mind starts to race with possibilities, “how was I able to kill her?”

“You could have killed her with your bare hands, Sam,” Beth says before Olle can. “You're a direct descendant of her son and she died in childbirth. The demon blood was just so you were polluted with the power of the Mark; so you could contain Lucifer while he still contained the Mark.”

Sam laughs, a bitter hollow sound, before leaning back in his chair, “I guess I really didn't need the feather, did I?”

Olle hears him and leans forward to take his hand, where is rests on his chair, while he cups his face and turns him to make eye contact, “Your ESP thing, that was strengthened by the demon blood, has always been inside you. Lilith's mother was a fairy, she was a seer and a psychic. There is magick in your blood that is, in no way, demonic.”

“Nearly sixty percent of the planet's population has some for of latent psychic ability,” Beth says gently. “Azazel gave you his blood as an infant just so he would never lose track of you.”

“The blood,” Lucifer says, “merely strengthened what abilities you already have, abilities that would never have manifested otherwise. The high, the addiction, was not to the blood, but to the power.”

“It's what witches feel like all the time,” Olle says with a squeeze to Sam's hand.

“It's probably about a zillionth of what Olle feels like all the time,” Gabriel quips. 

“We've gotten off topic,” Dean says then, watching Gabriel watch his brother lean into Olle's touch before sitting back and not letting go of his hand. “What we've established,” he affirms, “is we are actually no better off, or closer to finding her or a way to end her, than we were this time yesterday.”

“That's not true Dean,” Cas says, speaking for the first time. “Lucifer said she was drawn to him because of the Mark. We have already established, she is drawn to you, now, because of the Mark.”

“That doesn't tell me how to gank her, Cas, though, does it?” Dean barks. 

“I don't think we can,” Linda says then. “Kill her, I mean.”

“It's simple physics,” Kevin says when all eyes turn down the table to Linda. Olle and Beth concealing small smirks and the obviousness of his tone. 

“What the Hell do you mean we can't kill her?” Dean asks. 

“The balance,” Olle and Beth say in unison. 

“You knew,” Gabriel turns to them accusingly. “All this time, I've been wracking my brain, searching through every scrap of writing I could find and you never even hinted!”

“I've tried never to emphasize the need to kill her, but the need to defeat her,” Olle says. “I don't know if she can be killed,” he goes on, looking down into his empty coffee cup and, instead of reaching for the whiskey, gets up to make himself another cup while he keeps talking. “Two equal, but opposing forces, constantly pushing at one another. She exists outside, at the edge of Creation, the nothingness Creation expands into. He, God, whatever He did to me to make all of this, His power is what pushes at her. You can't kill her without Creation going full stop because it will no longer have anything to push against.”

“If we kill the Darkness,” Sam realizes, “we have to kill God as well and that,” he trails off. 

“Destroys Creation,” Balthazar finishes solemnly.


	8. Chapter 8

“So what do we do now?” Dean wonders, looking around the table. 

“We bind her,” Gabriel says. “Send her back to the edges of Creation. Even with all her power, she is as susceptible to magick as she was before. That's what Dad did, right?” he asks looking between Olle and Beth. 

The immortals share a long look before he nods and she speaks, “She should be. The fact that he was able to seal her away with a curse proves it.”

“Even if it was the Mark?” Lucifer asks. “That was more than just a curse, that had His hands all over it; His power radiating through it.”

“So,” Kevin says, “we just need to find something else God has supercharged and use it as a power boost.”

Everyone turns to look down the table, Olle and Beth share a brief, excited, look. “What do you mean, Kevin?” Sam asks. 

“Well,” the prophet says looking down the table, “there are things throughout Biblical history that God has infused with power, or that had the power to do Him damage.”

“The Arch of the Covenant,” Dean says, Sam is pretty sure he is thinking of Raider's and he smiles. 

“The Spear of Trium,” Beth says. 

“That still puts us behind the strongest binding spell ever created,” Balthazar says. “And we've already established, I'm total rubbish at magick.”

“Olle isn't,” Gabriel says. 

“You're not,” he retorts. “I'm not the one who wrote that fucking masterpiece that nearly ripped your brother apart,” he gestures down the table at Cas. 

“We've all seen the movies,” he quips. “You know how long it took me to write that; to research and gather everything we'd need and, then, how long it took me to actually perform the spell. She'll unmake Creation long, long before then.”

“Between my library and this one,” Beth says turning to him, “with the tablets, Metatron; you can figure something out!” She sounds desperate and impassioned but, also, full of the kind of unwavering faith they have always shown in him. 

Gabriel stares at her, uncertain and desperate, while her gaze bores into him; for a long time there is a mounting tension and utter silence before he nods, “I guess I have work to do then.” The angel disappears, taking two plates of cookies and all the whiskey Olle left in the corner. 

“Where'd he go?” Dean demands. 

“Probably downstairs,” Lucifer says. “He's had that far table piled full of research for weeks; now he has to change gears.”

“What?” Dean exclaims. “That was him?”

“One of them had to be here with Cas after the hit he took forgetting,” Olle says. “It was Gabe's turn.”

“His turn? So, what,” Dean demands, “he's just been lurking? For weeks?”

“Luce was here the whole time Cas was recovering from Metatron's spell. He brought us back from Wichita, healed Cas as much as he was able. Healed Metatron so I could talk to him. Healed me after I was wrecked from the counter curse. How's that? Or did you want to know that he saved your stupid, reckless ass in Philly too?” Olle demands, a little angry. “I needed help and you've certainly not been willing to do anything I've suggested; remember?” 

“Come on Luce,” Beth says when Dean is shocked into disgruntle silence. “I think Olle needs to hit something he can't kill. Let's go downstairs.” The angel nods and the three of them disappear. 

**

“Great job Dean!” Sam exclaims angrily. 

“What Sam? You're only defending him so you can get into his pants,” the hunter scoffs. “You weren't any better at listening to him than I was until you decided you want to fuck him!” 

“Right Dean,” Sam stands up and starts to stalk toward the War Room but stops at the steps and turns, “You know what, you are right. We second guessed him when we first met. If it weren't for Cas, Rowena would have killed him. We ignored him about the dragons and, when you went off half cocked, we did get him killed! And this morning, he let you kick the shit outta him just to blow off steam and you're still pushing. Why Dean? Huh?” The younger hunter doesn't wait for an answer, he just stalks down the steps and toward the elevator to the training floor. 

Dean catches up to his brother as he is waiting for the elevator doors to open. Balthazar and Cas had already taken Linda and Kevin and disappeared downstairs. “Sam, come on, Sammy! Hey,” his brother takes his arm and turns him so they are look at each other, “you're right, okay?” he begrudgingly admits, shifting uncomfortably and scratching a hand through the back of his head. “I can see something is different with Lucifer, okay. I still don't trust him though! Any of them! Man,” he shakes his head and pleads with Sam without saying a word, “we've been jerked around by these fuckers our whole lives! Why would they start being useful now?”

“Gabriel helped against Lucifer, before we got him killed. Balthazar helped us too until, oh yeah, right,” Sam snarks, “we got him killed too Dean! The real question is: Why the fuck do they trust us? We're the ones who keep fucking up Creation.”

The ride downstairs is done is tense silence, both brothers unsure what to say next. When the doors open, they can hear the clash of wooden weapons all the way down the corridor. Olle and Lucifer aren't in the regular training space, the boys realize, but in the main room all the corridors feed into. The room itself is almost thirty feet in diameter with a central, floating bamboo floor; they had never needed that much space to spar, so it was never used. Both hunters stop at the end of the corridor and stare, the angel and the immortal are each wielding a nine foot, hard wood fighting staff and moving almost too fast to focus on. Olle has stripped off all of his weapons and his shirts down to a black tank top while Lucifer is still wearing all his clothes. Beth, Cas and Balthazar are sitting on a bench on the far side of the room; when Sam and Dean make their way to them, Sam wonders aloud, “Where are Linda and Kevin?”

“They are upstairs, in the library, with Gabriel,” Balthazar says pulling Beth willingly into his lap so the brothers can sit down. 

Olle lands a hard blow to Lucifer's abdomen then knocks him backwards with a hit to the face. The big man isn't fast enough, though, when the archangel reappears behind him, landing a blow to his left side that must have, Sam thinks, broken his ribs. He notices Balthazar snap, then, and Olle seems to recover immediately. “How long,” Sam wonders, looking at Beth, “can they keep this up?”

“If I keep healing him every time Luce really hurts him,” Balthazar says, “until he decides to quit or my brother gets bored.” A quick snap from the angel then stops Olle's staff from sailing right into where they are all sitting. Lucifer's own staff vanishes, both back on the wall where they belong, and the angel goes at the immortal with a cross, blacking his eye and, if the echoing sound is any indication, breaking his cheekbone.

Balthazar goes to snap and Beth stops him, “Let's see how long he can play hurt. Never know when we're going to need to.” The angel nods and everyone keeps watching.


	9. Chapter 9

Almost an hour later, Sam is still sitting watching Olle and Lucifer. He can tell, finally, the immortal is starting to tire, where the angel does not, but Balthazar stopped healing him a while ago and the big man is bloody and broken now; no human a match for the Morningstar. Just then, Lucifer lands a lucky shot to Olle's ribs and the man crumbles, much like he did that first time, writhing and wheezing for breath. Beth and Balthazar are both on their feet, headed for the fighters; the archangel, though, is quick to reach out, hand on Olle's chest, and heal him completely. The two stop their advance, exchanging pleased looks before they return to the bench. 

Sam has no idea what, exactly is going on, but, when Lucifer helps Olle to his feet, the two men exchange happy smiles before Olle pulls the angel into a fierce hug, laughing. “Fuck Luce, I'm so proud of you!” Olle says when he releases him. 

“Thank you,” the angel says, small, embarrassed smile on his face. “Are you feeling better?” he wonders as a change of subject, while they make there way over to their audience. 

Olle chuckles, shaking his head, “You've put me over the moon. I don't think even Dean can piss me off for the rest of the day!” 

“Here,” Lucifer hands the bigger man a large sports bottle of water. “I'm going to go find Gabe, he could probably use some help.” Olle nods, gulping water, as they reach the edge of the bamboo floor; the angel disappears as Olle steps down onto tile. 

“We'll come too,” Balthazar says grabbing Cas and going before the angel can agree with his brother. 

Beth steps up and hugs her counterpart before saying, “I'm gonna go check the kitchen, it's almost dinner time.”

Olle nods, “They're using the break room. We can talk, later, about opening up the main kitchen.” 

She nods, “Keys to the Jag? In case I need to go get food”

“I put them in the box in the garage,” Dean tells Olle. “How are you so familiar with the Bunker?” he asks them both. 

They laugh, but Olle is tired now so Beth answers while he drops on the bench beside Sam, “We helped the architect design and build it as well as wrote most of the warding that went into it.”

“We'd been working on it since the 1880's,” Olle says then. “Got it finished right before Pearl Harbor and then I ended up in Europe.” Sam reaches out then, to take Olle's hand, and Beth looks at them for a moment before she nods, understanding Sam must know some, at least, of what happened to them there. “We have everything you'll need to make Alfredo; the shrimp is frozen, but there is chicken in the bottom of the fridge. I bought canned clams, too, if you want to make chowder, but I was waiting on snow.”

“I'll think of something. You know,” she says starting for the corridor to the elevator, “it's Thanksgiving tomorrow. We should all stay at the house this weekend; I've got absolutely nothing we need for a classic turkey dinner.”

Olle laughs, heaving himself up, pulling Sam with him, to follow her, “That's up to them,” he points at Sam and Dean. “Did you bring back what was left of my bread?” Olle wonders then. “Gabe stole it when he was putting the beer away yesterday.”

“He said you told him he couldn't have the pie,” Beth laughs. “We ate most of it, I think.”

“Where are we all going?” Dean wonders then, as they wait on the elevator. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” Olle says leaned against the wall. “I figured you'd follow her into the kitchen,” he points his thumb at Beth. “Sam, I think,” he smiles, “has just not figured out, yet, that he can let go of my hand and go wherever he wants.”

“I'm where I want to be,” the hunter smiles, giving Olle's hand a squeeze. 

“So,” Dean says then, changing the subject, “can you always fight like that? Go toe to toe with him like that?”

Olle answers as they file into the elevator, “They, Gabe, was the first thing I ever fought. The one who taught me how to fight. Then it was Eve and Lucifer and Cain and other angels and more Knights,” Olle shakes his head. 

“It's not always easy,” Beth says, “to stand up to their level. Our body is fragile and human so the speed and strength has to be carefully controlled. It's actually easier to fight a person or a monster, even a regular demon, because we can just focus on being a person and not have to pull out whatever it is that lets us be faster and stronger.”

“You've never tried to figure out what makes you able to do that?” Sam wonders. 

Beth shakes her head but Olle answers, “Letting myself think too hard about it, letting myself feel it, is a lot like Gabe said it was this morning. The power just flows through me, does it come from God, Creation, me, the Earth; I don't know. Using too much of it, though, makes me,” he struggles for a word. 

“You feel 'really good LSD' high,” Beth chimes in as they get off the elevator and head toward the kitchen. “But, if we lose focus,” she turns serious.

“We don't come down,” Olle finishes. “And we move too fast or hit too hard and end up hurting ourself as much or more than whomever we're fighting; which usually means we end up dead.”

Dean realizes, just now, exactly how easily Olle could have taken him apart this morning. He starts to think maybe Sam is right to wonder why they all seem to trust him and his brother so much. What could they want, besides cannon fodder? He is trying really hard, for Sam's sake, to see this in a positive light, but the more he learns the more he feels like they are still just pawns in a much, much bigger game. 

In the War Room, Olle stops, still holding Sam's hand, “I'm going to shower.” Beth nods and keeps walking, paying no attention, but Dean stops. Olle knows he is waiting to see what his brother is going to do; Olle is too actually. 

“You left all your weapons, and your shirt, downstairs,” Sam says. “How about I go get them?” 

It is an excuse, Olle can tell, he wants to talk to his brother alone. Letting go of Sam's hand, he starts for his room. “There is a table by the bathroom door in my room, just put everything there,” he calls over his shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

Once Olle has turned the corner, Sam looks over at Dean, leaning against the Map Table, “Come on Dean, man, what do you think?”

“About your boyfriend?” his brother laughs. “I'm not getting anywhere near him again, unless he says he'll let me win.”

Sam smiles, amused, before turning serious as Dean follows him back to the elevator, “No man, I mean about them. About all of us working together. About trying, at least, to trust them.”

“Sammy, man,” Dean hesitates, “I still don't know. I mean, we aren't half as hard to kill as the angels, even Cas. Cannon fodder, you know? What if that's all they're using us for?”

Sam is thoughtful, he knows Olle is not using them like that. He isn't sure he wouldn't if he had to, but he knows that is not his intention. Sam doesn't speak until they are headed down the corridor toward Olle's discarded weapons. “I'm not going to say that won't happen, Dean.” He is trying to be serious, and let his brother know he is worried too, “But, I don't think that would happen unless there was no other way.” He runs a hand through his hair before he slings Olle's shoulder holster over his own arm, “I think, Olle figures this is going to end bad no matter what. He's trying to prepare himself for being all alone when it's over. But that doesn't mean he thinks we are going to lose and that doesn't mean he won't keep trying to keep us all alive, Dean.”

“And Lucifer? Gabriel? Do you think they are going to give us, or even their brothers, a second thought?” Dean wonders. 

“I do,” Sam says finally, laden with all of Olle's weapons, carrying his t-shirt and Henley thrown over his shoulder, as they start back for the elevator. “Otherwise,” he postulates, “why would they have gone to all the trouble to ease us into this?”

“Okay Sammy, we'll see.” Dean steps off the elevator and heads down the corridor toward the War Room. 

Turning, Sam makes his way to Olle's room and stops outside the door; he had never been inside before. The room was at the end of the hallway where Dean's room was, but it didn't face the corridor. Instead, it opened into the hallway after you turned the corner; the top of a spoke that was the Roman wheel pattern of the Bunker's design. Both brothers completely overlooked the room when they first moved in because all the other rooms positioned like this had been storage; thinking this one was the same, they had never even opened the door. 

Sam knocks, but there is no answer, so he makes his way slowly inside. The walls are brick, he notices, but, unlike every other room in the Bunker, they have been painted a dark blue and there are rugs on the cold concrete floor. Moving further inside, Sam closes the door behind himself and looks around. The room is probably twice the size of his, taking up the full end of the corridor. The bed is enormous, it has to be custom made Sam reasons. There is a tall black dorm refrigerator sitting beside a huge brown armchair with matching ottoman; the lamp on the table beside it matches the two on the bedside tables. At the foot of the bed, by the door, is an enormous TV mounted to the wall and, beside that, tucked into the corner where the bathroom juts into the room, is a huge armoir with drawers and doors in it. Around the corner, leading to the bathroom, is an office space with a corner desk, a file cabinet, and a bookshelf that stretches all the way to the ten foot ceiling and must be at least eight feet long. Sitting half-in, half-out of the bathroom, because the door way is just an end to the dividing wall, is a four foot kitchen cabinet with hooks on the wall above it and drawers in the bottom. Sam sets about dropping all of Olle's weapons on the black slate counter top while he listens to the shower. A sly glance into the bathroom reveals a washing machine and the sink in front of him; to his right is a white cabinet obscuring his view of Olle in the shower nestled into the corner of the room. 

When the shower stops, Sam turns around to face the counter, laid out with weapons, and says, “Olle?”

The shower door opens before the big man replies, “Sam, did you get everything?”

Sam chuckles, moving back into the room to stare at the bookshelf now, “Yeah. It's all here.” Sam realizes then, he still has Olle's shirts thrown over his shoulder so he turns and tosses them on the bed. 

“I'll be out in a second. Just make yourself comfortable.”

Sam looks around, anything but comfortable suddenly, and does not want to sit on the bed so he goes around the room and drops into the armchair. “If you left the Men of Letters in the 40's,” he wonders, “how did you end up with a fully furnished room in the Bunker?”

Olle comes out of the bathroom then, wearing just a pair of maroon boxer-briefs and a white tank top. “It took nearly fifty years to design and build this place. I couldn't hang around that long, especially around these men. I had found Henry's grandfather here, though, so I knew I couldn't lose the family. I was still searching for the Campbells, hunters,” he shakes his head as he pulls open the door to the armoir, “next to fucking impossible to find.”

“Were you really going to kill us?” Sam is skeptical. 

Olle pulls on a pair of jeans, Sam watching the smooth motion as they slide over his firm, beautiful ass, “I'm not sure. I don't like killing children. Your parents, though,” he says shaking his head, “I could have done that.” Pulling a faded red coca-cola t-shirt over his head, he moves to his weapons and continues to talk, “My goal was to find them and keep them apart; only kill them if I had to. I legacy'd my way back in after the war and met Henry. He got drafted during Korea, missed your father's birth, and I think that was what made him decide to go back to the Men of Letters after; he didn't want to miss anything else and figured a life as a scholar wouldn't take him away.”

“Yeah,” Sam grunts, “for all the good it did him.”

“I was here when Abadon committed her little massacre,” Olle says coming over to pull a red and black flannel out and put it on. “When we heard they were all dead, when we realized she was not just killing them, but killing all of us, I went to Millie. I took her and John and left Kansas City. James Haggerty was her uncle, she knew what was at stake. I wanted her, them, to stay with me; I wanted to protect them.” Olle shakes his head, dropping on the ottoman in front of Sam to put his shoes on. “She wanted to get as far away from it all as she could. She remarried and I lost them. By the time I found your father again, he was in Vietnam.”

“How'd you lose him, then, and let Mom and Dad get together?” Sam is fascinated by how Olle's history seems to tie so closely into theirs. 

Olle laughs, “In 1969 I met Bobby. He had two weeks R and R and Karen was a school teacher on summer break. I can't say it was fate, because I hate her, but I was hunting an Okami. Really, I was hunting your mother's brother, who was hunting an Okami. I'd found him in Hawaii and was trying to follow him back to his parents to get to your mother. Karen and I were seated together on the plane from Honolulu to Tokyo. I met Bobby briefly and she was a nice lady,” Olle says sadly. 

“What happened, though, with our uncle?” Sam needs to know. 

“I left him and followed John back to the states when he went home.” Olle has no idea if he should be telling Sam all of this, but he can't think there is any harm in it now. “The Campbells weren't in Lawrence, then, though and I left him where I knew he was going to stay. I kept hunting, I followed leads and found your grandfather in Main. Six months later, though, Azazal caught up with me and I had to start running. The very last thing I wanted was to end up in Hell again.” When Sam is quiet, Olle sighs, he can tell the man is lost in thought. “Come on,” Olle claps him on the knee, “let's go see if Beth and Dean have started to argue about dinner yet.”


	11. Chapter 11

“I'm not going to ruin it, Dean!” Beth exasperates. “I do know what the fuck I'm doing,” she shakes her head and turns up her beer while Dean glares at her from across the prep table. 

“What's wrong?” Olle laughs coming down the steps into the room, Sam following behind; amused smile on his own face. 

“She's fucking up dinner,” Dean pouts going over to grab his brother and Olle a beer. 

“Carbonara Alfredo is not 'fucking up dinner,' Winchester,” she grouses, turning back to the stove. “And stop looking at my ass!” she throws over her shoulder; Dean has no idea how she knew. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” Olle complains, taking the seat across from Sam at the table. 

“What?” Sam laughs, turning up his beer. 

Olle points at Dean and Beth, still bickering by the stove. “She won't fuck him because of me and you and Dean won't fuck her because of me. They may kill each other.”

“Is that really what this is?” Sam is not as skeptical as he sounds. He is not sure how he feels, knowing what Beth is, about the idea of her and Dean, but he thinks Balthazar may have more to say on the matter than he does.

Olle shakes his head, “She doesn't trust him. He's volatile and deadly and she is more heavily armed than I am right now because she is afraid he'll try to hurt Luce or Gabe. She is better at hiding in plain sight than I am, but don't ever try to equate her with just another woman, just another hunter. She acts the part, enjoys it even, but that is not who, what, she is.”

“So how do we fix it?” Sam asks staring at them. They have stopped bickering, but are glaring daggers at each other while Dean insists on helping her with dinner. 

Olle turns up his beer in thought before answering, “We leave them alone. I'm sure as fuck not getting between them; she's scary.”

“Oh really,” Sam smiles, turning up his own bottle. 

Olle turns serious, “She is everything I never wanted to be and, yet, everything I am. The idea that I could have, somehow, been her; if only I'd tried hard enough,” he looks away from Sam now, to stare at her. “She makes me second guess myself; everything I thought and did my whole life to end up in the trunk of that car. I don't like to ask God 'why' because He never answers, but,” he trails off and Sam reaches across the table to take his hand. 

“I'm sorry,” Sam says gently, “I feel like I put that sad, lost look on your face. If I hadn't,” he shakes his head. “You've had to put even the thought of trying to process everything you remembered away because of the Darkness. That's my fault.”

Olle won't try to deny Sam is probably right, so he tells him the truth, “I wouldn't have come back at all, I don't think, if I didn't have to deal with everything you and your brother were kicking loose. Not,” he admits quietly, “until I was sure it'd been long enough that none of them could possibly still be alive.”

“Can you do that?” Sam asks. “Just drift in the ether like that?”

Olle nods, looking into his bottle but it's empty, “I did it after I came back from Hell. I didn't stay gone long, though, I only had so much time.” He gets up then, for more beer, and notices Beth and Dean have reached a quiet truce. Dropping Sam's bottle in front of him, Olle runs a hand along his shoulders while saying, “I'm going to go get everyone, it's almost dinner time. Then we can talk about going to Kansas City.”

**

“Is he okay?” Dean asks watching Olle leave. 

Beth turns to them both with a snort, “No.” 

“What does that mean?” Dean wonders, looking between the sad, upset look on his brother's face and the woman who, by her expression, can't believe Dean even needed to ask. 

“If we had our way,” she says, not turning from where she is mixing cheese into her white sauce, “we'd let all of you, angels included, burn for this. That would mean, though, taking the rest of Creation with you. God knows, you couldn't be trusted to work together without a lot of easing into it.” Beth turns then, setting the sauce aside and goes on, “You were off your head with the Mark,” she points at Dean. “Cleaning you outta that mess at the Styne place was a chore. And you,” she turns judgmental eyes on Sam, “God forbid the two of you learn to let each other go. That book,” she shakes her head again, emptying her beer, “a seer possessed by a fallen spouting truths a thing like that could pluck from the ether. At least you got all of them,” she turns back to Dean. “We let a crying whelp live before and look where it got us.”

“I'm not proud of that,” Dean says thickly. 

“You don't have to be,” she soothes, “as long as it's done.” She turns back to pull chicken from the oven and drain her pasta. 

**

Eating in the main dining hall is odd, Sam thinks. Looking around, though, he realizes there is not a lot about this whole situation that isn't odd. The food is wonderful, but it stands to reason Beth is just as good a cook as Olle. The ten of them sit around one of the thirty or so tables in the room and Sam marvels, again, at how institutional the Bunker seems. With no one really talking, he poses a question, “Olle, would it be okay if Dean and I came with you all, back to Kansas City? I'd like to see your library.” 

Olle nods, “Sure. I'm not sure where we'll all sleep.”

“The house is furnished,” Beth says sipping her wine. “Lucifer and I did that last night.”

Olle nods, “Perfect. The house is huge, though,” Olle turns back to Sam. “Just, prepare yourself. I built it because I no longer had access to the Bunker. I needed a facility to store books and weapons, cursed objects and artifacts. Very little of it is really a house.”

“That's not true,” Balthazar jumps in. “You've got a kitchen and bedrooms and a pool. Hours of fun right there, eh Bethy?” She laughs, bumping her shoulder affectionately with the angel. “And the home theater is infinitely better than Linda's tiny TV.”

“Thanks Baz,” Mrs. Tran deadpans. 

“It's fantastic Sam,” Kevin says from his empty place beside his mother. “You'll love it.”

“We can go after dinner,” Lucifer says. “Which, Beth, is very good.”

“Thanks Luce,” she grins into her plate. “What are we going to do about Metatron? No one has mentioned him, is he still here?” she looks between Sam, Dean, and Olle waiting. 

Olle scowls, “We have to do something.”

“What?” she ask. 

“He's been antagonizing Olle,” Dean says. “Honestly, I'd like to just let him go.”

“He's useful,” Gabriel and Lucifer say in unison before Lucifer continues. “Until Kevin can be brought back to a state of existence where he can use his ability as a prophet to read the tablets, Metatron is our only source of knowledge in that regard.”

“He stays here,” Olle says firmly. “I'm not having him with us; I don't have anywhere to put him that he couldn't potentially hurt himself. We feed him and leave him here.” That settled, everyone finishes eating and, after cleanup, the archangels bring them all to Olle's home in Kansas City.


	12. Chapter 12

It is dark when they appear in the back yard, everyone standing around the teak table where Olle keeps the malachite he used as a beacon for the warding. “Come on Cas,” he says letting go of the angel's shoulder, “let's get you keyed into the lock.” Reaching out, the big man grabs the torch still in the umbrella hole on the table. “Okay,” he rolls the sphere into his hand and gives Cas the torch.

“There are powerful sygils on this,” the angel says turning it around to examine them, eyes perfect even in the November night. 

“Blood your hand with the torch,” Beth says, “then, oh.” She turns to Sam and Dean, “You boys need to cover your ears. Place your hand on the malachite and, in your true voice, speak your true name.” Everyone does as their told and Cas is safe to come and go as he pleases. 

Olle leads everyone inside through the sunroom and into the kitchen. The house is enormous, he knows this, but loses perspective on it sometimes; the look on Sam and Dean's faces is a reminder. The kitchen can comfortably seat fifty when you factor in the island, breakfast nook, and two long dining tables; there are two ranges, a wood burning pizza oven in the corner, and a separate pantry that is larger than the average sized bedroom, as well as an alcove of built-in bookshelves loaded with cookbooks. 

Beth laughs, “Come on boys,” she claps them both on the back, “you haven't even seen the libraries yet, don't freak out now.”

“Olle,” Gabriel says then, “I'm going to head back to the Bunker. I just wanted to make sure Cas was okay.” Olle nods and, taking Kevin with him, the angel vanishes back to Lebanon. The others disburse then too. Linda mentions returning to a book she was reading and Lucifer says the same before they head up the steps together. Balthazar stays, though, as much for Beth as for Cas. 

“Where do you want to start?” Olle asks looking between Sam and Dean.

“Start at the bottom and work our way to the top, I guess,” Dean says then. “What's in there?” he points at the door leading into the butler's pantry. 

“Butler's pantry,” Beth says. “We can go downstairs and start,” she heads out the kitchen door to the stairs. 

Beth goes on, playing tour guide, as she shows them through the basement; she gives them a history of how and when the house was built and what protections and warding were worked into the construction. Making their way back upstairs, she walks them through the family room across from the kitchen and into the living room. Olle watches Sam marvel at all the books; much like he did when he first saw the full library at the Bunker. As Beth mentions the electronic card catalog on the desk, Dean goes over to pluck a book off the shelf and flip through for a moment before putting it back. He can tell the hunter is bored now, Beth wowed him with the basement but this was more Sam's area of interest. Once they are through the apothecary and the medical storage in the butler's pantry, Beth stops them back in the kitchen. 

“The second floor is more of the same really. There are two libraries and an office, Lucifer's room, the laundry room, and master suite. Third floor is all bedrooms and fourth is cursed objects, bedrooms, and entertainment.” She stretches, leaning into Balthazar, “Baz and I are gonna go find a room on the third floor since Olle and Sam need the bigger bed. Linda's room is on the fourth floor in the far back corner of the house, Dean; any other room you want, feel free.”

“Thanks,” Dean nods leaned against the wall next to the garage door. Beth shakes her head before she and the angel vanish.

“I think,” Cas says then, “I'll return to the Bunker and see if Gabriel and Kevin could use my assistance.” The angel vanishes before anyone can do more than nod. 

“You're sleeping with Balthazar?” Dean turns an incredulous face on Olle. 

The big man smiles, “Beth is sleeping with Balthazar. He's uncomplicated and perfectly aware of what she, we, are. As long as it works for them,” he shrugs, “I've done a lot worse.”

“Oh really?” Sam turns a laughing, curious face on him. 

“I've had an awfully long time to make all sorts of mistakes Sam,” Olle says with a chuckle. 

“I'm gonna go look around,” Sam says still smiling. 

Olle hasn't kissed him in hours so, he follows Sam into the hall and, as soon as they are out of Dean's line of sight, he presses the hunter into the wall and devours his mouth. “I've wanted to do that for hours,” Olle pants when they break for air. 

Sam laughs, “Can I go upstairs?” He leans up and pulls Olle back down to lick into his mouth. 

“Wherever you want,” Olle says backing away finally. “Just, if it's locked, don't try to get into it. Whatever it is; it's dangerous. Ask me and I'll tell you or I'll open it for you.” 

“Okay,” Sam shakes his head before pulling Olle in for one last kiss, then going down the hall toward the living room and Olle's card catalog. 

**

When Olle heads back into the kitchen, Dean is gone. Grabbing two beers from the refrigerator, he wonders through the sunroom, out the double French doors at the back, and into the fenced pool area; Dean has made his way as far as the outdoor kitchen so Olle sidles up beside him and silently hands him a beer. 

The two men are quiet as Dean wanders around, making his way through the sunroom again and out into the yard. Eventually, he sits at the table where they all arrived and, gesturing, asks, “What's that?” Dean knows it is a building, but it looks completely open on the front and Olle already pointed out the outbuilding through the fence around the pool; that was the other side of the yard. 

“It's the forge,” Olle says dropping beside him. “I'll show you both tomorrow. I need to start working on your dragon sword anyway.”

Dean nods, “Where'd you learn to be a smith?”

Olle sits back, nursing his beer, “The longer you know me, you're going to learn that a lot of things you thought were true about Creation aren't.” He laughs quietly, “That's not an answer, though, is it? Easy answer, Cain. He taught me and Abel and Mica and Fenrir. Because he became a demon, when they were old enough, I taught his sons.”

“What was he like?” Dean asks into the dark. “I think I could have liked him,” he laments. 

Olle smiles, “A lot like you; fierce. Just spiraled a lot faster is all. Everything was new and fresh and terrifying and always life or death back then. Lot easier to fall a lot harder, a lot farther, faster.”

Dean is silent, thinking, while Olle finishes his beer. Eventually, the big man pulls out his phone and fires off a text to Sam, “Fourth floor; come find me when you're ready for bed.” Standing, he claps Dean on the back, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”


	13. Chapter 13

Sam is quickly in awe of Olle's library, and not just because of the size of it. Many of the books and tablets and scrolls are in languages that haven't existed in thousands of years. Some, the truly rare, are in languages Sam is certain no mortal man has ever spoken. Making his way to the second floor library, Sam meanders through the hundreds of floor to ceiling shelves; stopping occasionally to pull a book off the shelf and sit at a well placed table or sink into a comfortable chair or sofa tucked away in the corners. The whole floor is done in varying shades of purple and white, and he finds himself headed through a room full of just cabinets and shelves into a comfortable office with a desk and sofas and winged backed chairs. Sam hears his phone buzz then and, checking it, smiles at Olle's text. He makes his way around the room, noticing many of the books are journals, like the one he was reading when he and Olle first met. He realizes, now, Olle must have been the one to write them, and he pulls one off the shelf to flip through while dropping down on a dark plumb colored love-seat. When it is apparent Sam will need Olle's help translating this particular journal, written in Hindi, he looks around and realizes there is quite a bit of room missing if he is not mistaken. Moving around the room again, he finds the hidden door behind the desk, but, when he pulls the bookshelves out, the door is firmly locked. Making a note to ask Olle about it, Sam puts everything back where he found it and makes his way back into the hallway. 

At the foot of the steps, Sam sees light under a door to his left and, curiosity getting the better of him, he goes over and knocks. Lucifer's voice bidding him enter startles him, but he obeys. Dark mahogany built-ins that match the hardwood floors, white rugs, and navy blue furniture from Olle's apartment, Sam remembers, fill the room. Lucifer is sitting on the couch reading. 

“Hello Sam,” the archangel says softly, closing his book around his finger to mark his place, as he turns to look at the hunter. “Can I help you with something?”

“No, I,” Sam stammers, stuck between the door and the white rug where all the furniture is placed. He cannot decide if he is embarrassed he is invading what is obviously Lucifer's personal space or if he is nervous about being alone with him for the first time since they were together in Hell. 

Lucifer must, Sam thinks, sense his hesitance because he is perfectly still and soft spoken when he goes on, “Would you like me to go get Olle or Dean so we don't have to be alone? I don't want to upset you, Sam. Not any more than I already have.”

Sam takes a deep breath and forces away the sudden urge to dig his thumb into the scar on his hand; he hasn't done that in years. “No,” he comes further into the room, sitting in a white and navy striped winged backed chair facing the door. It puts Lucifer between him and the door, but it also puts him farther away from the angel than any of the other furniture on the rug. There is a desk behind him, but sitting there would be ridiculously far away. “I'm sorry,” he starts.

“No need to apologize,” the Devil says putting his book down and shaking his head. 

“I'm not sure what else to say,” Lucifer says after a few minutes of nervous silence stretches between them. “Telling you 'I'm sorry I was insane' just doesn't seem like it would make up for any of it,” he says seriously but, also, with a small uptick of his mouth to indicate he realizes how far fetched what they are doing is. 

Sam wants to laugh at that, but it is taking everything in him not to try to crawl out of his skin; despite everything he knows, now, about why Lucifer was the way he was. “This is strange,” he settles on saying; proud of himself that his voice is firm and even. “I know you're not the same as you were before, but I'm still uncomfortable.”

“I understand,” the angel says. “Feel free to look around. I'll just,” he gestures at his book, “keep reading.” 

Sam does look around then, and he notices that the books here are not like the ones in every other room. The books are all mundane; children's books and every book from every public school suggested reading list ever. There are others too; sci-fi/fantasy, philosophy, history, psychology, Sam even notices two whole bookshelves devoted entirely to comics and graphic novels. The room is barely half full of books and none of them are related to the supernatural at all. “Are all these yours?” Sam asks coming back to his chair. 

Lucifer looks up from his book again, “Yes,” he says. “Olle thought I needed to be reintroduced to humanity. He started with children's books; they were very helpful.”

“How so?” Sam is curious. 

“When I came out of Hell, when Olle made me safe and whole again, I was bombarded with humanity. Figuring out even humans have to learn how to be human,” he laughs, “it helped.” Laying his book down, the angel turns on the couch to look at Sam, “You were only the second vessel I had ever taken. I only knew humanity as it related to you; your memories and thoughts and experiences and abilities.”

“What do you mean?” Sam wants to know. 

Lucifer is shy, hesitant, but he takes a deep breath and speaks, “I was, am, intimately aware of everything about you, Sam, from the moment of your birth until Thanatos came and removed your soul from the Cage. You're the reason I always beat Gabriel at pool and, though I haven't gotten to play yet, I'm certain I can do the same at poker. Olle also said,” he chuckles, “you're the reason I'm socially awkward and a good dancer.”

“Possession works both ways,” Sam mumbles, starting to get an dangerous idea. 

“It does,” Lucifer says, refusing to pretend he didn't hear. “What,” he sounds concerned and curious in equal measure, “are you thinking about doing?”

“I'm not sure yet,” Sam says not wanting to give too much away until he has a fully formed idea. Lucifer acquiesces with a nod and Sam gets up, headed for the door, “Good night Lucifer,” he says as he pulls the door open. “Thank you.”

“Good night, Sam,” the hunter hears as he pulls the door shut behind him. 

In the hallway, Sam shoot a text to Olle, “Where are you?”

The reply comes almost immediately, “Fourth floor, right at the top of the steps.”


	14. Chapter 14

At the top of the steps, Sam hears the crack of a pool que and his brother's laugh. Smiling, he makes his way into the rec room that takes up over half of the front side of the house.. Balthazar was right, he thinks, the home theater is impressive. There is a small kitchenette, pool and ping-pong tables, shelves strewn with books and board games, comfortable furniture and empty tables, and, in the corner, a piano and two acoustic guitars. Leaning on the back of the enormous sectional, Sam watches Olle and Dean finish their game. 

“Having fun,” he asks his brother after his win. 

“Hell yeah,” Dean laughs, “better than last time.”

“Told you it was anyone's game last time,” Olle says putting up their sticks. When he comes over to wrap an arm around Sam's waist and plant a quick kiss on his mouth, Dean clears his throat and goes over to the refrigerator for a beer. “Did you enjoy your look around?” Olle asks quietly. 

Sam nods, “The hidden room, behind your office, what is it?”

Olle smiles, “Mostly, very dangerous books. Things that are warded against demons and angels.”

Sam nods thoughtfully, “Anywhere else we should steer clear of?”

Olle tilts his head toward the far wall, “The room next door is cursed objects. There's an electronic lock on the door, just like the armory.”

“Why go through all that trouble,” Dean wonders, handing them both a cold bottle, “if the house is as heavily warded as it seems to be?”

“If,” Olle turns up his bottle with a smile, “I'm ever burgled by just normal people, think about the trouble they could get into, or cause, if they got hold of some of the things here.”

With a shrug, Dean hops over the middle of the sectional then, reaching for the remotes on one of the three coffee tables in front of him. “How does this work?” he holds up a plethora of remotes. 

Olle laughs, leaning over to point, “Cable box, speakers, projector, Blu-ray player.” Pointing up to the ceiling, at the projector mounted there, “Turn on the projector. The cable box is there,” he points to a shelf by the TV screen. “DVD player, video games. It's all wireless.”

“Awesome,” Dean says settling in. 

“Come on Olle,” Sam coaxes, taking the big man's hand and starting to pull him, willingly, toward the door. 

Once in the hallway, it is Sam's turn to press the bigger man into the wall and lick, hungrily, into his mouth. Olle's arm's wrap possessively around the hunter, pulling them together, as his hands knead that tight, round ass Sam works so hard on. When they break for air, Olle rubs his stubbled cheek against Sam's still unshaven face before he sighs, “Let's go to bed, Sam.”

Sam takes one step back, nervously, and says, “Yeah, yeah okay.”

“Hey,” Olle reaches out for his hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling him into a quick, soft kiss, “you still set the pace here; that hasn't changed from this morning. I just like sleeping with your arms around me.” Sam smiles and they head down the steps, fingers still laced together. 

**

Outside the bedroom door, Sam looks at Olle with his beautiful, dimpled smile, and confesses, “I don't know why I'm nervous, it seems so ridiculous. I trust you. I know I want you. Stopping to think about it, though, makes me feel uneasy.”

“Okay,” Olle says opening the door and pulling Sam over to the couch in the corner instead of the bed on the other side of the room. Putting space between them so Sam doesn't feel pressured, Olle wonders, “What can I do, or say, or let you do or say, that will make this easier?”

“I have the world's worst track record,” Sam sighs. 

“Hey,” Olle smiles, “I'm not a demon. It's been several hundred years since I've been any kind of supernatural creature. Baring the Darkness destroying everything, I can't actually die. Is that what you're worried about?” Olle speaks quietly, genuinely curious what is going on inside Sam's head. “Or, is it the fact that I'm not going to run screaming from the fact that you're a hunter and you're not going to pack your stuff and leave town in the next couple of days?”

“All of that, maybe,” Sam says. “There is so much about you I don't know. So much about you I'll never know. As much as you know about me, I feel like I'm looking at a stranger,” Sam confesses. 

“I'll tell you anything. All you have to do is ask. I thought I'd proven that already,” Olle emphasizes. 

“What if I don't know the right questions?” Sam worries. “You were the one who said earlier, you've had plenty of time to make all kinds of mistakes. What were you talking about?”

“Okay,” Olle sighs, rubbing his face with both hands. “I've fallen in-love when I shouldn't have. I've trusted whoever I was with would take as much care and have as much consideration for me as I do of them; and I was wrong. I've been in-love when I knew the object of my affections couldn't or wouldn't love me back. For every time someone has hurt me, there have been just as many times when I hurt someone. I've manipulated people with sex. I've used is as a diversionary tactic and a coping mechanism. I've let those who were in-love with me think I loved them back when I didn't. I've had one night stands and orgies and friends with benefits and menage a toi and poly-amorous relationships. I have loved and been loved, though, too. I've had sex with angels and demons, fairies, and all manner of supernatural creatures; in addition to humans. With very few exceptions, my relationships never last more than a couple of months, though.” Olle hopes he hasn't tipped over into the realm of too much information; especially when he has offered no specifics. 

Sam is quiet for a long time, “That was vague and all encompassing.”

“What specifics do you want?” Olle asks, praying, if he has to talk about Gabriel, it goes better than he expects it to. 

“Just,” Sam falters, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair, “why me, I guess?”

Olle laughs, happy and relieved, scooting down the length of the couch and reaching for Sam's face, “You're gorgeous, for starters! Those eyes and those dimples and that smile!” Olle smiles too then, settling one hand in his lap, the other across the back of the couch. “You're brilliant and determined and a hell of a hunter. You're compassionate and empathetic.”

Sam shakes his head, unbelieving, “I'm reckless and obsessed. I'm suspicious of anyone not Dean. I run from anything that I don't want to face. I'll do terrible things to keep my brother safe. I'm a killer.” 

Olle shakes his head, reaching out to cup Sam's face, “Just because you've killed, doesn't mean you're a killer. The things I could tell you that I've done, in more than just a vague way, would disgust and terrify you.” He kisses him then, hard, “Don't ever think I'll judge you too harshly for anything you've done. Trust me, and take it as a given, I've done worse.”

“Okay, yeah,” Sam nods then, yawning. “Can we just, can we go to sleep?”

Olle knows Sam is avoiding, doesn't believe him when he tells him he is not a killer, or a bad person. He lets it go, for now, though, and stands up, “Yeah, come on.”


	15. Chapter 15

Sam lays awake a long time, just smoothing his hands down Olle's back where the bigger man lays curled into his chest in the dark. The weight of him, the comforting sound of his breathing, gives Sam a feeling of contentment he doesn't believe he has ever had. No one he has ever been with has known half as much about him as Olle does. As nice as that is, it is also kind of terrifying. Messing this up means he has really messed it up; no putting an end to it because he has to leave town or the other person finds out he has been lying to them the whole time; no demon or vampire or werewolf is going to take Olle away from him. Once he fully commits to this thing between them, once he lets himself have Olle, whatever mistakes he makes, however this ends, it will be because he wasn't good enough. Of course, the equally terrifying thought of, 'What if it lasts?' runs through his head too. Olle won't get any older and, while Sam doesn't figure he'll be kicking around in the next ten months, let alone ten years, what happens if he is? What happens if this works? What happens when he looks more like Olle's father or grandfather than his boyfriend? What happens when he dies and Olle is alone again?

**

When Olle's alarm goes off at the regimented 6:30, Sam groans in protest as the big man moves away from him to turn off the offensive sound. He got three hours, maybe, and just wants to pull the bigger man back into his arms and try for another two at least. “Do we have to?” Sam asks sleepily. 

Olle laughs, voice sleep rough, “You can go back to sleep. Since we're already here, though, I'm going to get started on reforging that dragon sword and seeing what else I've got lying around that I can work with.”

Sam grunts, unhappy, “If you're going to be all productive, I might as well find something important to do.”

Olle chuckles, rolling over to envelop Sam in the sheer size of him while propping himself up on his elbows, “I can't think of anything more important than me knowing you're up here, waiting for me, all day; while I'm slaving away in the heat of the forge.”

Sam smiles, shifting around so Olle is nestled between his legs. The bigger man to too tall for them to be face to face and groin to groin so Sam's legs are around his waist, “What if I want to watch you 'slave away'?” Olle reaches down then and kisses him, can't help but, and rubs his scruffy face on Sam's soft beard. The hunter laughs, “You really like the beard, don't you? I've just been lazy lately, I need to shave it off.”

Olle smiles, devouring Sam's mouth until they are both panting, “I think it's sexy as fuck! But,” the big man rolls away, “whatever you want.”

“Where are you going?” Sam all but pouts when Olle gets out of bed. 

“Shower,” he smiles. “You can come, if you want, it's plenty big enough for two.” Olle can't think of anything better than rubbing his wet, soapy body all over Sam's wet soapy body, but he falters a step when he thinks of what happened the last time he showered with someone; crying about Gabriel with Beth and, before that, Gabriel telling him he loved him. He rubs his hand against the scar in the center of his chest, almost indistinguishable, and he shakes his head, turning to reach a hand out to Sam. “What do ya say, Sammy?”

“I want to,” Sam says with a smile, sitting up on the edge of the bed, “but I think,” his hand goes through his hair in that serious, thoughtful way he has, “we need to talk first.”

“Okay,” Olle sits back down beside him, knee bend up on the bed to face the younger man. 

“I keep wondering how I'm going to mess this up.” Sam reaches out a hand to stop whatever it is Olle is about to say, “And I worry about what could happen if I don't.”

“How about,” he reaches out and cups Sam's face, rubbing his thumb along the softly bearded jawline, “we just stop thinking about what could happen. If you don't get out of your own head, you're going to do exactly what you said you didn't want: you're going to let fear keep you from having something you want. I'm not afraid of this, Sam. I'm not afraid of living, forever, with whatever happens; as long as it happens.” Olle pulls him in then, kissing him slowly while he pulls him up and through the bathroom door. 

Olle has wanted this for months, even while everything with Gabriel was falling apart, and that makes him feel like a bastard, but he'll take it because Sam is pressing him into the wall beside the shower door, moaning into his mouth as Olle squeezes his ass. He reaches out with one hand, groping for the door, but he finally has to gently push Sam away and turn to get the door open. When Olle turns back, Sam is standing there panting, bare, and smiling; half hard just from kissing him. He moans, a wanton sound a lesser man would deny, before stripping off his own boxer-briefs and pulling Sam inside to turn on the rain shower. 

**

Sam's head is swimming, “Look at you,” he mumbled against Olle's mouth as they are pressed together under the water. 

The big man smiles, hands roaming wherever he can reach, “Look at you,” he responds before licking into the hunter's mouth again. 

The temptation to just pick Sam up and have him is almost too much, but Olle left the lube in a nightstand drawer for a reason; pushing Sam into moving forward was one thing, but pushing him into that was different. Oll steers Sam back until his knees hit the stone bench and he sits. Olle falls to his knees between Sam's legs and trails kisses and long, nibbling licks down Sam's neck and chest; stopping at each nipple to work it into a hard bud he can suckle and worry while Sam groans out his name, holding the back of Olle's head in an iron grip. At the juncture of hip and groin, Olle laves Sam's skin, working tiny bite marks and bruises there, before turning his attention to Sam's woefully neglected cock. 

“Is this okay, Sam?” Olle ask looking up the length of his body, while his enormous hand give Sam a slow squeeze. 

Sam groans; Olle's lips, already sinfully full, are kiss swollen and red from marking up hiss body and Sam is pretty sure he lost the ability to form coherent sentences about three seconds ago. All he can think, though, is, “I haven't been tested.”

“Okay,” Olle nods as he starts an even pace of jerking Sam off, rubbing his thumb up the underside of the head and over the tip. “I can keep doing this, or we can stop while I go get a condom, or we can do something else. What do you want?” Olle purrs, starting to lay kisses on Sam's inner thighs.


	16. Chapter 16

What does he want? Right now, all he can think about is the feel of Olle's hand on him and the hum of his skin where he is being worked over. There is an ache in him that is almost begging to be pressed into the wall and fucked by this beautiful man. With a playful bite and the laughing sound of his name on Olle's lips, Sam is brought back to himself, “This,” he chokes out. “Fuck, Olle, don't stop!” he pants trying to force his eyes open so he doesn't miss a second of those happy almost green eyes staring up at him while that hand just keeps moving and those sinful lips suck a dark purple bruise on his inner thigh. When Olle bites down on the bruise, Sam comes with a shout. His entire body arches off the bench, eyes slamming shut as his head goes back and he cums all over his abs and Olle's hand. 

When he comes back to himself, Sam opens his eyes to see Olle standing, now, between his spread legs, as his hand flies over his own impressive cock while he looks down at Sam with lust blown eyes. “Fuck Sam, look at the mess you've made!” Olle pants, voice deep, bordering on aggressive. “The next time we do this,” he chuckles a dark, sexual sound that sends a shiver up Sam's spine, “I want to be able to lick you clean when we're done.” Olle leans forward then, to brace his arm on the wall behind Sam, and, with a growled, “Fuck!” his body tenses and he comes all over Sam's belly; finally slowing down but not stopping until he is thoroughly spent. 

Sam pulls him down by his thighs, so Olle is straddle his lap, and licks, hungrily into his mouth until they are both breathless again. “The next time we do this,” Sam pants, arms around Olle's head so they are forehead to forehead, “I want you inside of me.” It is Olle's turn, now, to aggressively claim Sam's mouth. 

When they can both breathe again, Olle stands up, pulling Sam into the water with him. The two men bathe and dress interspersed with languid kisses and playful, smiling laughs. When Sam is dressed, in his jeans, everything else borrowed from his only slightly bigger boyfriend, he watches Olle pull on his boots and has to ask, “How do you look so goddamn good?”It is an honest question that comes out blunt and Sam sounds genuinely confused when he asks. 

Olle laughs, “I don't know Sam, but maybe Beth is right, maybe we are vain. It's not like I concentrate on looking like.”

“Wolverine with more body hair or that new, hot, Superman?” Sam cuts in with a laugh. “As for Beth,” he goes on, “she looks just like, well, only.”

“You can say her name Sam. Beth looks just like Julia, only a hundred pounds and six or eight sizes smaller,” Olle says. “We know. That wasn't intentional either. Her ass is better,” Olle shrugs heading for the door to the closet. “She's got none of the scars or broken bones or birthmarks and she's virtually all muscle, but yeah, we know.”

They meet Beth in the hallway, wearing just her hunter green t-shirt from last night and black lace boyshorts, she is carrying the rest of her clothes and boots, “Right on time, guys,” she smiles. “I need a shower, and clothes.” Olle smiles, shaking his head. “You gonna get started on that sword?” she asks casually still headed for the bedroom door. 

“Yeah, thought so,” Olle says. “Gonna see you out there?”

“Nah,” she yawns again. “Baz and Luce took Linda and went back to the Bunker to see how Gabe and Cas were doing. I thought I'd wonder around, find Dean, see if he wanted to try out the firing range or get his ass kicked by a girl.”

“So I gotta set everything up myself?” Olle pouts. 

“Dimples can help,” she leans into the door facing and nods at Sam. “Besides, you've got the power hammer, you don't need anyone's help.”

“Don't fuck Dean,” Olle implores. “What if we get all mashed up together when we die? That is the last thing I want.”

“I'm not going to fuck Dean,” Beth laughs. “Lips like that, it'd be a waste in this body.”

“I doubt that,” Sam chimes in, finally joining the conversation. “If the things I've heard over the years are any indication,” Sam shakes his head, “you'd be missing out.”

“Okay Dimples,” Olle sighs as he pulls a laughing Sam toward the stairs; Beth's laugh fading behind the bedroom door. 

**

“Do not, for the love of all that is good in this world,” Olle says as they walk into the kitchen, “encourage her!”

Sam just laughs, but Dean, sitting at the island eating toast, more of Gabriel's stolen loaf Olle sees, wants to know, “Encourage who, what?”

Sam just keeps chuckling, dropping into a seat by his brother, while Olle goes over to the espresso machine, “Alright, maybe telling you will work.” he says pulling two cups out of the cabinet. Handing Sam his when he turns to look at Dean; he nearly begs, “Don't have sex with Beth.”

Dean sputters, “What? Why would I?”

Sam just cackles, “Please Dean, I saw you looking at her.”

Olle just shakes his head while he empties the coffee pot between him and Sam before he turns back to the espresso machine and gets it started, “Dude, she'll eat you alive. I had no idea I was that fucking hard to please. In the few odd months she's been kicking around, Baz is the only one I've seen come close.”

Dean snorts, “That sounds like a challenge.”

Olle groans, but the angel in question appears beside him, leaned against the refrigerator, “It really wasn't Dean, believe me. She'd forgotten multiple orgasms were possible and now refuses to have anything but.” Turning to Olle, he asks, “Gabe wants to know if you need us to help you weld the blade and draw it out?”

“I shouldn't,” Olle says finally turning up his coffee. “If the blade will weld, I have the power hammer. I hate that I don't have dragon ash for flux, but I have enough blood; I should be okay.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” the angel says before he is gone. 

After a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and the last of Olle's loaf of bread, he leaves Sam and Dean in the kitchen to go grab the dragon's blood and what is left of the sword of Bruncvik in the armory. When Olle comes back into the kitchen with a five gallon plastic bucket over three quarters full of blood and a box with all the pieces of the sword, Sam is sitting at the island alone, waiting on him. 

“Beth took Dean outside to get the forge going,” Sam says coming over to take the bucket from Olle and grab a quick kiss. “How does this work?” Sam asks as they make their way through the sunroom and out toward the forge. 

“It's basically like making a brand new sword, just using the pieces of the old sword,” Olle says. “What I have to do, though, is add enough blood to the mix that the sword holds together and will still work on a dragon. I use the blood as flux, adding dragon ash would make it more caustic but I'll use borax, and temper the blade while it soaks in the blood. It only takes about a gallon.”

“So, you could make,” Sam hefts the bucket, “two more?”

Olle laughs, “Making one from scratch is harder. There are moon phases and spells. I can mumble at this one while I'm fluxing it. If Cas will give me a pint or two, though, I can get you and your brother both custom made demon killing knives.”

“We'll see,” Sam says as they step up into the forge.


	17. Chapter 17

Olle's day spent in the forge was much more productive than Gabriel's spent doing research and compiling ideas for a binding strong enough to have any effect on his aunt. Even with his brothers' help, he felt like he was grasping at straws. It was nice, though, all of them working together; Linda and Kevin at a far table trying to piece together any of what he could remember about the tablets he had worked with. It was interesting to watch Cas interact with Balthazar and Lucifer, after everything that had passed between them, and watch the three of them interact with Kevin and Linda. It was a stark reminder to him that, in spite of all his time living among humanity, he paid little attention to them. 

“Gabriel, I need to talk to you,” Lucifer says when Balthazar and Cas are ready to take Linda back to the house that evening. 

When Balthazar nods, taking his brother, Kevin's ring, and Linda with him, Gabriel sits back down at the table, shoving and stacking a few things so he can offer his brother and chair, “Shoot Luce.”

“I'm worried about Sam,” he starts.

“I was,” Gabriel admits, “but he seems to be doing great; better than expected. I'm sure Olle has something to do with that,” he snarks.

Lucifer shakes he head, sympathetic to his brother's feelings, but needing to clarify, “No, after spending time with him and Dean, during Cas' recuperation, I'm not surprised at all by how well he is taking my return.”

“Then, what is it?” his brother wants to know. 

“We were talking, last night, and I mentioned my intimate, nearly all encompassing, knowledge of him due to his use as my vessel.” Lucifer shakes his head, worried, “He said, 'Possession works both ways,' and the look on his face, Gabriel.” Lucifer is worried and it is reflected in his tone, “I don't know what he is thinking, but he is thinking something and, if the look on his face is any indication, it can't be anything good or safe.”

“Okay Luci, don't worry about it; I'll talk to him. Okay?” Gabriel pats his brother on the back, worried a little himself now. Sam's desperate ideas are usually just that, but they tend to get results. The cost, though, is always high and, always, one Sam is willing to pay. 

Lucifer is satisfied with his brother's response. He isn't sure he knows enough, really, about humanity or emotions to do more than know there is something to worry about. He wouldn't trust himself with that, except, he does know Sam so well. “Let's go back to Kansas City, Gabe. We need to integrate ourselves as much as possible. Sam and Dean need to see us, so we become a part of the group.”

“You're really taking what Olle said all those months ago to heart, aren't you?” his brother laughs. 

Lucifer, though, nods seriously, “If we don't do all we can to integrate ourselves, to try to understand, we could become so much more dangerous than we have ever been.”

“Okay big bro,” Gabriel sighs, “let's go.” 

**

Gabriel and Lucifer arrived just as everyone was sitting down in the breakfast nook for dinner. “Hey, is that pie?” Gabriel asks pointing at the island as he slides in beside Lucifer. 

Olle nods, “Pecan and pumpkin. It is Thanksgiving.”

“What is that all about anyway?” Balthazar asks. 

“Genocide, mostly,” Beth answers as she passes around plates of fresh lasagna while everyone helps themselves to salad and bread. 

“It's about survival,” Olle says, giving her a stern look. “The genocide came later. Today, it is supposed to be about giving thanks for what you have and where you are; despite what you've had to suffer through or overcome.”

“Grateful, for being here? After what happened at Roanoke?” Beth asks shaking her head. “After what happened in Salem? After the largest genocide in history, that's still on going, that everyone knows about and no one talks about? ”

“Especially,” Olle says meanly, “after what happened there. If I can remember to use my verbal filter, you should be able to, too.”

“What happened at Roanoke?” Lucifer asks, looking between them. 

“Pestilence,” Sam says. “Croatoan. But,” he turns to Beth since Olle seems to not want to talk about it, “what did happen?”

“The Croatoan Indians knew something was wrong,” Beth says. “When they came,” she shakes her head. Sam can see she is angry, but Olle is quiet and he wonders at their mixed emotions. “they killed the last few of them that were alive and took the handful of survivors.”

“What happened to them?” Dean asks, getting pulled in. 

“Smallpox,” Olle says. “They were lucky.”

“Lucky?” Dean is incredulous. 

“Lucky Dean,” Beth says leaning on the table. “You've seen what Croat can do. Those things,” she pushes herself off the table and down into a her seat, “Virginia Raleigh.”

“Don't,” Olle chokes out in a pained whisper. “Fucking Christ Beth!”

“No!” she barks, angrily leaning forward to glare at Olle before going on. “That's what we're all doing here! We're all together to talk about what that bitch did to him,” she points at Lucifer, “and what he did to us! We're here to remember, to know, what she is capable of and to know we have to stop her before worse happens!”

The table is deathly silent and Olle is glaring daggers at his counterpart, but he finally nods, “Virginia Raleigh. Do you want to know what Croat does to an infant?” His voice is even, almost detached. 

“Fuck me,” Dean shakes his head thinking about that little girl who nearly killed him when Zachariah sent him to that terrible alternate future. “How does a baby get infected?”

“Breast milk,” the big man says, looking down at his plate. 

“You were the body they found,” Sam says softly, reaching under the table to give Olle's leg a gentle squeeze. 

“Do you know what it's like inside the mind of an infected?” Olle asks, thankful for the comforting touch. “It's how I imagine the mind of The Joker is all the time, maniacal, sadistic, and evil; seeking death and pain and destruction at any and all cost. The benefits of the supernatural infection are that you're next to impossible to kill. You don't need to eat or drink, you don't feel pain, and, baring a truly mortal wound to the heart or the brain, you can't die.”

“How did you get infected?” Lucifer asks. He is starting to retreat into himself, but he wants to know; needs to. 

Olle and Beth are both quiet for a while before she says, “I want to say I was attacked, but,”

“We're immune to a lot of things,” Olle goes on. “I needed to know if I was immune to Croat, too. If it was coming, if I was going to have to fight it, I needed to know.”

“And you're not,” Sam finishes solemnly. 

“Only you,” Beth tells him quietly. 

“After the trials,” Olle reasons out logically, “I doubt even you would be anymore.”

“Way to ruin Thanksgiving guys,” Kevin says then. “Wanna remind Sam that every awful thing that ever happens to him, happens on his birthday?”

“That's not true,” Sam exclaims. 

“Come on Sammy,” Dean chuckles as they all fall back into eating. “You died, I went to Hell, you went to Hell; it's not a good time for you man, admit it.”

“Thanks Kevin,” Gabriel deadpans from the opposite end of the table. 

The prophet shrugs, “Change of subject got everyone eating; didn't it?” Gabriel laughs and the rest of dinner, pie included, is easy, meandering conversation.


	18. Chapter 18

Balthazar snaps, when Dean finally pushes his empty dessert plate aside, and the kitchen is spotless. 

Gabriel finally thinks to ask, “So, Olle, how's the sword coming? Did it weld?”

Olle nods, “It would have been easier if I'd thought to mention the ash to Lucifer; I didn't think about the fact that he didn't know.” He leans back, arm behind Sam on the back of the seat, “I got it welded and drawn out. I'm still working on it, but it should be ready for grinding by Sunday.”

Gabriel shakes his head, shifting a little when Olle's arms goes around Sam, but he keeps talking, “How long's it been since you made a sword by yourself?”

Olle shrugs, “Hundred and fifty years or so. I did smaller work all the way up to '81. Bullets and small blades, hexboxes; mostly in East Asia. It's slower, harder, but I've missed it.” He smiles then, he had missed the forge, even the soreness and exhaustion that came with it. 

“When was the last time you made a dragon blade?” Lucifer asks. 

“When I made that one,” Olle says. He chuckles, “I didn't realize it was one of mine, actually, until I pulled the hilt off to cut it up for welding. The hilt had been changed, but I have a punch that I mark all my blades with. I made it in India not long after I came back from Hell.” 

“For who?” Kevin asks. 

“It was just a dragon sword because India had a dragon problem at the time. I gave it to a hunter from a line of hunters, his name was Vyaadh. How a Russian came to have it, I have no clue. This was over four thousand years ago, that sword was one of the first iron forged swords in known history.”

“What does that mean?” Linda asks from the back corner of the square booth. “You said, 'known,' what does that mean?”

Since they started talking about Croatoan, Olle has noticed Lucifer start to withdrawal into himself and, when he looks over at the angel, he seems to shrink even smaller. “It's not important, Linda, not now,” he says with a hard look from her to Lucifer and she nods in understanding. Sam and Dean were watching the whole exchange closely and, when it looks like Dean is about to speak, Sam's leg comes out to connect with his brother's under the table and he shakes his head firmly with a hard line to his mouth. Olle watches and, with the arm not around Sam's shoulder, reaches out to give the Winchester's thigh a firm squeeze in thanks, Sam acknowledges it with a smile. 

“So,” Sam says to change the subject, “How'd it go today Gabriel? Are you any closer to finding anything that can help us?”

Gabriel shakes his head, frustrated, “I'm looking, but it is slow going. Spells like that don't just appear out of thin air. It took me ages, literally, to write the one Olle was talking about and, as profound as the effect was, what I'm trying to do now is,” he pauses. “You'd think I'd say more complicated, but I doubt anything could be. It needs to be stronger, even, than that was and I don't know that anything ever could be.”

“There was more to it, then, than what Metatron thought?” Sam asks curious. 

Gabriel shifts, uncomfortable, wanting to steer the conversation away from this because it was exactly what Olle had just moved Linda away from. “The Grace, once it was torn free of the angel, was concentrated for a desired effect so it wouldn't be released haphazardly on Creation. The spell is simple, ingredients easy to find when it was written and the words, even easier, but it was part of a much grander ritual.”

“It feels like you're all avoiding something important,” Dean accuses. 

“We are,” Beth cuts in before anyone can answer. “But, right now, it's not something we're going to talk about. It upsets Lucifer.” She is across the table from him, between Sam and Dean, but she reaches out her hand to the archangel and, smiling sadly, he takes it. 

“I'm going to go upstairs, to my room, and read,” the angel says, holding her hand in a crushing grip, to remain calm, before his vanishes. 

A snap from Balthazar has her flexing her hand, testing to make sure everything is back where it is supposed to be. “Thanks Baz,” she acknowledges, leaning back into her seat; the angel nods. 

“So what? I hurt his feelings?” Dean wonders incredulous. “I could give a fuck, what aren't you telling us?”

“Cut your brother's throat, Dean,” Beth says seriously. “Do it because it is the only way you can save Creation. Now, sit here and be asked to explain it. Sit here and listen to us all talk around it.” She slides under the table then, crawling out to stand up and turn, “Come on Baz, lets go for a jog.” With a snap Balthazar is beside her and they are both in running clothes. “Don't wait up,” she says heading for the door to the garage. 

“He's gone, why is she so pissy? Tell us what you were just talking about,” Dean looks at Olle while pointing at where Beth just disappeared through the door. 

Olle shakes his head, “He can hear us Dean, no matter where we are, probably in the continental US, unless he tries not to. It's not ours to tell and it's not relevant to the current situation.” Olle slides out of his seat then, pulling Sam with him by the hand, “I need a long, hot soak; I'm sore and tired and not half done with that sword yet.”

Sam stops, Olle still holding his hand, “Leave it Dean,” he pleads. “You saw the look on his face. Just leave it.”

Instead of heading upstairs, like Sam thought, Olle pulls him downstairs to the training floor and the locker room beyond. “What are we doing down here?” he wonders. 

Olle smiles going back to the sauna, “Beth left out the best part of the whole house when she waved her hand and indicated the locker room.” He opens the door and turns on the gas before he shuts the door and starts to strip, “Come on Sammy, wanna join me?” he grins. 

**

Dean moves from the table to let Linda out so she and Kevin can head upstairs. He is left alone with Cas and Gabriel, the archangel still staring at him. “What?” he asks defensively, after squirming under the angel's long gaze. 

The Trickster-archangel does a full body, questioning, shrug, it is far too casual to actually be, “You tell me Dean. What has you so bent out of shape? Really. You're too use to resurrection and revelation for it to be us that's got you so out of it lately. Is auntie wiggling under your skin?” 

“Fuck you Gabriel,” he says before storming out, headed for the rec room upstairs. 

“That wasn't wise Gabriel,” Cas says seriously. “He isn't going to get use to you being here if you keep antagonizing him.” 

The angel just shrugs, nonchalant, “Come on Cas, we need to talk about Sam.” Cas follows his brother back to the Bunker, curious and, if history is any indication of what Gabriel wants, a little worried.”


	19. Chapter 19

Dropping back into his chair in the library, Gabriel points to the one he earlier cleared off for Lucifer, “Come on Cassie, sit.” 

“What is it about Sam, Gabriel?” Cas wants to know as he drops into the offered seat. 

“Can you tell me why he would be interested in possession?” Gabriel asks, thinking about what Lucifer told him the young hunter said. 

Cas shakes his head, “Sam has been used his whole life. He has been possessed by both angels and demons. What are you worried about?” Cas needs to know, because his brother does sound worried. 

“Luce came to me earlier,” Gabriel says. “He is worried. He spoke to Sam last night and he said Sam seemed too interested in the fact that he had all of Sam's memories. Something about how 'possession works both ways' or something. Do you know what he could have meant?”

“That's what Sam said Crowley told him, when he got Sam to cast out Gadreel. Crowley had to help him remember everything, so he would acknowledge he was possessed,” Cas say, still confused. “Why?”

Gabriel thinks he may be starting to understand, “I'm worried Sam is thinking he could remember what Luce is afraid to.”

“That would be very bad, Gabriel,” the younger angel worries. “Sam's mind couldn't possibly comprehend all that Lucifer experienced.”

“I'm not sure that's even what he was thinking,” Gabriel tries to reassure, but he would bet anything he is right in his assumption. “We just need a plan to discourage him.”

Cas shakes his head knowingly, “If Sam has decided to do something. They don't give up. If he thinks it is the only way to discover how God locked away Amara, I'm afraid there will be little we can do to change his mind.”

**

Sitting in the Sauna, Olle on the bench below him, Sam digs his big hands into the bigger man's neck and shoulders; working out the kinks from a long day with a heavy hammer. Watching Olle rebuild the dragon sword has been educational; he and Dean both watching with a critical eye and asking questions while Olle patiently answered each one. 

Sam has been thoughtful, too, about his conversation with Lucifer. He was certain whatever the angel was too traumatized to remember was locked away in his own head somewhere as well; he just needs to figure out how to recall the angel's memories. With that in mind, as Olle drifts on the edges of sleep, arms draped over Sam's thighs and head leaned back against his belly, he continues to run his hands across the big man's arms and down his chest, comfortingly, while he wonders, “You said Lucifer had to use you as a vessel to get out of Hell.” At Olle's sleepy hum of agreement, Sam goes on, “How does that work? Are the two of you totally aware of each other? I mean,” he runs his hands all the way down Olle's chest then back up to knead his shoulders, “could you see his memories of what he was vague about with the Darkness?”

Olle wakes up as his mind starts to back up and go over everything Sam has said all day, including this entire conversation; refusing to give up his comfortable slump, though, any more than it takes to tilt his head and look up at Sam, he answers, “I kept us completely separate. Two minds as vast as ours, it is possible we could get so lost in each other that pulling us apart would be next to impossible. Why?” he asks casually, still trying to sound sleepy and disinterested so Sam will keep talking. It is tricky, he knows, but Sam waited until he was relaxed and half asleep to start this conversation so he is trying not to start the argument Sam probably figured was coming any other way.

“I was just wondering if it could be possible to figure out how God banished the Darkness in the first place,” Sam says. “I mean, without Lucifer having to potentially rehash things he doesn't want to think about.”

“Okay,” Olle says. “That would be great, but,” he does pull away now, turning to look at Sam, “I didn't do it that way, would, honestly, be afraid to try. Maybe we just need to give him a little more time,” Olle says seriously. “He is doing so well. As he keeps getting better, we can try meditation and hypnosis to get him to remember.”

Sam sighs, hand going through his hair, “It could take him years to be well enough, Olle. I was thinking, what if I tried to remember? It should be in here somewhere, just like I'm in his head,” Sam is serious and calm, not trying to start an argument, just stating facts in build up to a plan. 

“Even if you could, and I'd be surprised if you didn't want to try,” Olle smiles running his hand up Sam's thigh. “I don't know that you'd understand it or be able to control exactly what you saw. Getting hit with everything in his mind, even gradually, could kill you.”

“Can we think about it?” Sam asks running his fingers through the length on the top of Olle's head before scrubbing his palm on the shaved scruff of the back. “Can we try to come up with a plan, talk to Lucifer about it, and see?” Sam quietly implores. 

Olle sighs, knowing this is a bad idea, but knowing, also, Sam is not going to let this go. “Yeah, yes, we can try to figure it out. But,” Olle turns on his knees to look at Sam seriously, “promise me, if we don't find a way to approach it that is at least marginally safe, we find another way. Please Sammy,” Olle begs, standing up to climb in Sam's lap, his head almost scrubbing the ceiling. “Please,” Olle begs again running his nose along Sam's cheek until their lips are touching.

“Okay,” Sam nods, “yes. I promise.” 

Olle kisses him then, sweat slick bodies rubbing together as Sam's hands move up Olle's thighs and his back; kneading the sore muscles. When they break for air, both men are hard; grinding together against their bellies, until Olle's giant hand comes down to wrap around both their lengths. With a groan, he pants, “This okay Sam?”

Nodding his head, hands now firmly clamped on Olle's ass, Sam grunts, “Fuck yes! Just a little firmer, don't stop!” as Olle picks up a nice rhythm. 

Lifetimes of practice, mean Olle staves off his own release until Sam cries out, both of them painting their stomachs in white. Olle continues to work them both through their orgasm until they are sharing breath as well as lazy kisses, as their heart rates return to normal. “Let's go take a shower,” Olle says finally. “We've been down here a while, we probably need some water and I'm genuinely looking forward to going to sleep.” With a last kiss, Olle moves off of Sam to turn off the sauna and wait on the hunter to follow him out to the shower.


	20. Chapter 20

As Olle lies there, in the dark, Sam curled into his side for a change, he says, softly, as his hands run through the hunter's long hair, “You do know you're going to have to talk to Dean about this, right? Sooner, rather than later. If he finds out you planned it all out behind his back, he's going to go ballistic.”

Sam sighs, “He's going to go ballistic either way.”

“The reason the guys are trying so hard to be present,” Olle says, “is they know how important it is for you and Dean to accept them. They understand they have nowhere to go if you all manage to live through this. If they aren't seen as part of the group by then, they are worried they will be seen as the next big threat.” Olle stares hard at Sam in the light coming through the windows by the bed, “If Dean thinks you're pulling away from him, he'll blame it on me or on them and he will become angry and reckless and dangerous. He is far too drawn to Amara as it is; we don't want to give him any reason to trust her over us; to turn to her for comfort.”

“Dean wants her taken care of,” Sam says seriously, sitting up on his elbow to look down at Olle. “You can't think he'll choose her, can you?”

Olle shakes his head, “I believe he does want her gone. But, they are drawn to each other because of the Mark. Whatever happens,” Olle says seriously, “Dean, for whatever reason, won't be able to follow through; no matter what he wants, what he knows has to happen.”

Sam lays back down then, thoughtful. After a while, he comes to a decision, “I'll talk to Dean about it first. Tell him what I want to do. Tell him what I've promised you. Maybe he can help me find a way to make it work.”

“Atta boy Sammy.” Olle squeezes his arms around Sam and sighs, “Let's get some sleep.” The two men relax and drift into an easy, restful sleep.

**

Lucifer makes his way into the rec room, wanting to use the very large TV to watch all six extended editions of Peter Jackson's The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings Trilogy. He is carrying a notebook and pen, all five Tolkien books, and the journal Olle and Gabriel wrote; thinking about Amara and Michael and everything that happened. He needs to find a way to make sense of it all in his head, and try to remember everything that happened when God locked away the Darkness in the beginning. Though he is far from surprised, the last thing he was expecting to see was Dean, alone, playing 8-ball, bottle on the edge of the table and three empties in the recycle bin. 

The hunter stops what he is doing when he realizes he has an audience. “Everyone is pissed at me because I hurt your feeling earlier. You come to pile on?” Dean snarks.

“You didn't hurt my feeling,” Lucifer says going over to put down everything he was carrying, “It is just,” he comes back, leaning on the other pool table, “sometimes it's hard to think about how spectacularly everything I was trying to do just blew up in my face. I went mad and tried to destroy Creation. I see it all like I'm standing outside of myself,” he says, really thinking about how to describe it. “Do you understand?” he wonders. “I took the Mark to protect my Father's Creation, to protect Michael, to keep Dad from going to Gabriel, asking him to do this impossible thing. I wanted her to go away, so we would all be safe, be together. I had no idea what would happen.” He smiles sadly and starts to pace while Dean listens in shocked, understanding silence, “I want to go back, all the way back, and shake myself for how stupid I was! I want to go back and do then what I was ultimately trying to avoid and had to do anyway,” he says sadly.

“Beth said,” Dean doesn't know how not to ask, but he hopes he can do it without setting the angel off in any way. “She said you killed Michael.”

“I,” he stops pacing suddenly and looks, hard, at Dean, “I can't talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Please.”

“Okay, yeah,” Dean agrees immediately, the look on Lucifer's face is so pained. He knows, whatever happened, it was the last hope of a terrified, desperate man; done trying to save something he knew he had already lost.

“Suffice it to say, I was insane but, if you'd agreed to be his vessel, and he had managed to trap me,” Lucifer shakes his head, “this would all have happened a long time ago and the end would be very, very different.”

“If he was so dangerous,” Dean wonders, “why were you the only one who knew?”

“Michael was careful and calculating. With Dad gone, me mad, and Gabriel seen as a deserter, he had cart blanch over the Host; getting Naomi to make them forget, to alter their memories, was probably easier than it should have been.” Lucifer says. “What she really knew is anyone's guess, but I'd bet she was how he knew it could be done.”

Dean nods, he wants to know everything now, but knows Lucifer will not say more. He stares at the angel for a long time before tilting his head at the pool table, “Will this bother you?”

“No, I was just going to watch a movie,” the angel says going over to the sectional and hopping across the back, into a seat. “You can join me, if you like. Have you seen The Hobbit?”

Dean comes over later and hands the angel a beer before he sits in a corner of the sectional, far enough away from Lucifer that they both have plenty of their own space. When he falls asleep at the beginning of The Desolation of Smaug, Lucifer is still intent, flipping through the books, and Olle's journal, while taking notes. He knew Dean was curious what he was doing, curious about everything he didn't say, but he never tried to interact after giving him a beer. He is determined to remember whatever it is he is repressing, he has to know more than what he is sure happened. He has to remember, before Sam gets any bright ideas and gets himself killed trying to help. He refuses to hurt Sam again, even accidentally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing and writing. I've gotten to chapter 37 already, about to top 50,000 words. I had to stop and re-organize my outline. I was going to keep going with this one, but I realized how long it was going to be and decided to break it up. 
> 
> I've been having trouble writing, I'll write great for a few hours or a day and then I'll not be able to put a word down for two or three days. I've been looking for a job recently and it's not going well. When all I want to do is crawl into a hole and never come out, it's hard to write. Today, actually, started off pretty bad, but the Entertainment Weekly cover came out and that, of all things, improved my mood and got me writing. 
> 
> I'm about to get in the bed and I just figured I'd end on a high note and post another chapter. I hope you enjoy!


	21. Chapter 21

When Olle's alarm goes off, he bolts upright in the bed panting, trying not to scream, while he looks around for Sam. When he notices the light under the bathroom door, he sits up on the edge of the bed and listens to his alarm while he calms himself down. It isn't that he doesn't want Sam to know about his nightmares, the hunter already knows he has trouble sleeping, especially alone; he just doesn't want to talk about them. Maybe, he thinks, if this thing between them goes anywhere, then he'll talk to Sam. When he sees the bathroom light go off, he reaches for his alarm. 

Sam comes out of the bathroom dressed like he is about to go for a jog, “Hey,” he smiles at Olle. “I was going to find Dean and check out the gym downstairs.”

Olle stands, stretching, trying to use the movement as a cover for show shakey he still is, “Sounds great, you can talk to him about your whole Lucifer idea.” 

“Yeah,” Sam says, “that's the plan.” He stops at the door and turns, “Are you okay?” he wonders. 

“Yeah Sammy, I'm good. Still a little sore, but looking forward to the day,” Olle says honestly. He makes his way into the bathroom as Sam closes the door behind him.

**

When Sam finally finds his brother, he is shocked to find him sleeping soundly in the corner of the huge sectional on the fourth floor while Lucifer sits watching The Fellowship of The Ring; flipping through books and taking notes. Leaving his brother asleep for the moment, he turns to the angel and asks, “Whatcha doin'?” while leaning over the back of the sofa. He quickly realizes there is no way he can read the large book the angel has open beside him, but the others are Tolkien's books and that just adds to the mystery. 

Lucifer is scribbling away in a notebook, using what seems to be the same language the book is written in, and he finishes whatever note he was making before looking up at Sam to answer, “It is easier than you would imagine to figure out how Tolkien used the truth to create this fantastical tale. I'm just trying to gain an outsider's perspective.”

“The truth?” Sam scoffs, “The truth about what?”

The devil shakes his head, though, “Olle said it was diluted, and I believe,” he looks over to flip a few pages in the old lore book, shaking his head, “he changed some things so they wouldn't be as frightening to people, or so easily related to Biblical history as you all know it.” Sam slides over the back of the sectional to drop beside Lucifer, the angel's books spread between them, and stare at him in shocked disbelief. “None of it, though,” the angel's tone is defeated, “is helping me remember what came directly before.”

Sam sort of laughs, still shocked, when he asks, “You're saying Tolkien wrote those five books about what? The War in Heaven?”

Lucifer nods, “The First and Second War and everything that came after it, up to the point where Olle returned the Mark to Cain. It gets confusing and convoluted, but if you watch and follow along with their journal, instead of the books,” he turns to the larger book again, “it makes more sense.”

“You're trying to remember what happened,” Sam realizes, “when God locked away Amara.”

Lucifer nods, “It's not going well, I'm afraid.”

“Why now?” Sam wants to know. 

“I saw the look on your face, Sam,” Lucifer says pausing the movie with a thought and bringing his full attention to the hunter. “I know you're thinking something, planning something. I'm worried. About you,” he says as if to make that completely clear. 

“What do you mean?” the hunter asks. 

“Just because it's probably in there,” he points to Sam's forehead with his pen, “doesn't mean you should go looking for it. You hate me enough already,” he confesses quietly. “Seeing it all won't improve your opinion of me. And it won't help you understand. It will drive you mad, it will kill you,” he says seriously. 

“You don't know that,” Sam responds quickly. “Olle made me promise,” he admits quietly, after the hard look on the devil's face, “Dean has to know, Olle has to agree. If they think it is too dangerous, I won't do it.”

“What about what I think?” Lucifer asks sadly. “I haven't earned the right to ask, I know, but what if I don't want you rummaging around in my head?”

“We can talk about that,” Sam says finally. “After I talk to Dean.” Lucifer nods, not in agreement exactly, but acceptance and Sam gets up to wake his brother. 

“Dean,” Sam says nudging his brother's shoulder. “Hey man, it's almost eight, wake up.”

“Huh? What?” Dean comes groggily to his senses, looking around. “When did I fall asleep?” he mumbles. 

“Right after the hunting party were attacked by Arachnid, before the demons attacked but after the elves imprisoned them,” Lucifer says having gone back to making notes while the movie plays. 

“What?” Dean is confused and still half asleep so he looks to his brother for answers. 

“I think he means at the beginning of Desolation of Smaug,” Sam is pretty sure. 

“Oh,” he says sitting up and shaking himself more awake. 

“Come on Dean,” Sam says vaulting the couch, “lets go get some breakfast, I wanted to check out the gym.”

Dean rolls himself over the back of the couch and follows Sam downstairs, stopping in a third floor room to grab a shower while his brother goes downstairs to find them something to eat. 

**

After breakfast, the brothers find Cas, Beth, and Balthazar in the training room; Cas is watching Beth and Balthazar spar. The angel turns to his friends and says, “She expects me to do this next.”

“She'll go easy on you, I'm sure,” Sam tries to reassure, but, watching her, sees she is as lethal as Olle. 

When they break, Beth comes over to grab her water bottle and, tired, happy smile on her face, asks, “Wanna go a couple rounds with me Cas?”

“I'm not sure my Grace is up to that kind of display,” he admits shyly. 

Beth nods, “Well, you and Baz can hang out and train or go help Gabe; Kevin and Linda are with him again today. I'm gonna go see what Olle's up to with that sword.” Without pressing the issue, she heads for the shower. 

“Okay big brother,” Balthazar smiles at Cas from the edge of the training floor, “what'll it be?”

“Why don't we go see if Gabriel is having better luck today?” Cas says. 

“Figures,” Balthazar says with a snap, and they are both gone. 

“Come on Dean,” Sam says, catching him looking into the locker room from the door, “I wanna go for a run and you can find something to do.” He pulls his brother through the training room door, back into the gym, and heads for the treadmills at the back of the room.


	22. Chapter 22

Dean joins his brother on a treadmill, he thought they would be sparing so he dressed appropriately, and they make idle conversation. When Sam is finished with his run, Dean wanting to be finished a long time ago, they move on to spotting each other as they lift weights and Dean has the chance to finally ask his brother what is going on, “So, Sammy,” Dean says as he trades places with his brother, “what do you want to talk to me about that you've drug me down here and forced me into exercise?”

“You know,” Sam says adjusting the weight for his brother, “we don't know what's coming Dean. If soulless vampires are any indication, we need to be at the top of our game. This will be good for you.”

“Maybe,” he grunts out on his first rep, “But, that doesn't change the fact you wanna talk to me about something,” he says. “You've got that look.”

“Okay Dean, fine,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Why did I make Olle that stupid promise?” he mumbles. 

“Was he naked?” Dean asks seriously. “It doesn't count if they were naked, you were coerced.”

Sam can't help but laugh at his brother. “You tell him that,” he says. “Seriously, though, I was thinking.” 

When he trails off, Dean knows it is something Sam would not normally talk to him about; he may be starting to like this whole Olle wanting what is best for Sam too. When he is finished, he sits up and looks at his brother, “What is it Sam? Because you talking around it makes it seems a lot worse than it probably is. Now,” he wipes his face off with a towel and starts his next set, “what were you thinking?”

“Okay,” Sam sighs, “but you can't freak out and start screaming until I'm totally done telling you, deal?”

“Deal,” Dean agrees, a little more worried now. 

“I was talking to Lucifer the other night, and, he said he has all of my memories, Dean, all of them, up to when I got out of the Cage.”

“Okay,” Dean is curious, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“He can't remember, Dean,” Sam says. “What happened when God locked Amara away. But, what if I could?”

“Wait a minute Sam,” Dean gets louder, but is trying to stay calm. 

“No Dean,” Sam is serious, “if it's in there, if he can't access it, maybe I can.”

“And, what? Why did Olle want you to talk to me about this?”

“Because, Dean, he thinks it's a stupid, dangerous idea and he made me promise I'd talk to you before I did anything about it,” Sam admits. 

“Finally,” Dean says a little relieved, “I'm not alone in trying to stop you from doing stupid things!”

“It's not stupid Dean,” Sam is getting angry with his brother, “it's necessary! We need to know what happened! If Lucifer can't remember, this could be the only way to figure it out.”

“But at what cost Sam, huh?” Dean asks. “Have you talked to him about this? What does he think?” He can't believe he is asking the devil's opinion on something and hoping they agree. 

“He's not happy with it either,” Sam reluctantly admits. 

“So,” Dean says, “let me get this straight, you're the only one who thinks this could turn out well? That includes, not just me, but the oldest living archangel and an immortal who is older than that! Come on Sammy, this is suicide!”

“Maybe not Dean,” Sam says pissed off now. “Olle said it was a bad idea, but he also said he'd help me try to find a way. If we can find a way that he, and Lucifer, agree on, I'm going to do this!”

“There has to be another way!” Dean yells now. 

“How Dean, huh?” Sam wants to know. “You can't be near her without going love struck! We don't know where she is! We can't kill her! We have to figure out how God locked her away in the first place, so we can try to do it again!” Sam is tired now, of fighting with Dean and of worrying about him, “I broke Creation trying to save you, Dean, and I'm glad, I'm so fucking thankful, it worked, but you've gotta let me clean up this mess any way I can, man.”

“I don't like it Sam,” Dean admits, deflated by his brother's emotion. “You're never gonna get me to say anything that puts you in danger is okay; you should know that by now. But, if, and this is a big 'if' Sammy, if Olle and Lucifer believe it can be done without hurting you, I'll at least hear you out again. Okay?”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam smiles, “that's enough for now.”

“Good,” the older hunter says. 

They finish their workout in relative silence before they shower and head upstairs for lunch. 

**

The brothers find Olle building a fire in the pizza oven while Beth stretches dough, toppings laid out around her. “What's your poison boys?” she asks with a smile. 

“What do ya got?” Dean wants to know, coming over to the island in the corner of the kitchen where she is working. 

“Beef, pepperoni, ham, bacon, and onions,” she says, throwing the dough in the air and catching it. 

“That all sounds good to me,” Dean chuckles. 

Olle moves around the island then, in dark jeans, black boots, a gray t-shirt, and a forest green Henley, to pull Sam in by the waist and kiss him hello. “You two have fun this morning?” he asks. 

Sam wrinkles his nose before he answers, “He agreed to listen, if we come up with a plan.” 

Olle nods, letting Sam go, and moving toward the door, “Beth, bring me food, please? The sword should be ready to work again. If I can start the anneal tonight, I'll be ready to grind Sunday. Will you help me with the fuller after lunch?”

“We can do it after you eat, if you're finished with the bevels,” she says starting to sauce her dough. At the back door, Olle grabs a black Carhart jacket before heading back to the smithy. 

“Cold out?” Dean asks leaning on the island to watch her make pizza. 

Beth nods, “A lot colder than yesterday, in the low 30's.”

“How long did it take you to make this sword initially?” Sam asks leaning against the cabinets to look out the window and watch Olle head across the yard. 

“I had a smithy with ten assistants, it still took months,” she says sliding the first pizza in the oven and starting to stretch another mound of dough. “We had to forage for the iron, though, and make the steel. Even with modern equipment, having at least one assistant is essential in sword making.”

Beth takes Olle half a pizza and two bottles of beer while Sam and Dean eat. When they are done, Dean makes his way out to the smithy and Sam heads for the card catalog. Dean is actually interested in learning as much as he can about blacksmithing and Sam is determined to find a way into Lucifer's locked away memories.


	23. Chapter 23

As Beth prays to Gabriel, reminding him, Cas, and Balthazar that Linda needs to eat, she calls to Lucifer and sends Dean through the house to find Sam. Turning to Olle, who just came from cleaning up in the sink in the garage, she asks, “Are you going to talk to Cas?”

“Talk to me about what?” the angel in question wonders as he and his brothers appear in the space between the island and the pantry, Linda and Kevin in tow. 

“I was going to make Sam and Dean each their own demon killing blade. Something small, like the Kurdish blade, but different, unique to them,” Olle says talking to Cas and ignoring the glare he was starting to get from Gabriel. 

“That sounds interesting,” Cas says. “What do you need from me?”

“I need the blood of a Fallen,” Olle says. “Not much, about what you lose donating blood, for each blade. You wouldn't have to give it all at once. I could do one blade at a time; it'll take me about two days to make each one and I'd finish the sword in between so you'd have about a week.”

“I didn't know that's how the Kurdish blades were made,” Cas says, not immediately agreeing. 

“It isn't,” Gabriel chimes in. “He can wait until the full moon then make them the Kurdish way and he won't need your blood,” the angel says thinly. Gabriel knows the process has to be carefully done so there is enough Grace in the blood to forge the blade and it can be dangerous if the angel is not strong enough.

Everyone is in the kitchen now and they are watching Gabriel and Olle square off while Cas says, “If he has a good reason, I'm always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

Gabriel snorts an angry sound at that, but Olle speaks, “Your blood contains Grace, it ensures the blade is strong enough to kill a demon. The Kurdish blade, you'll remember, wouldn't kill Alistair; won't kill Crowley. The ones I want to make could. The angel has to be Fallen because they ruled Hell, even when Lilith commanded them, and their blood was used to strengthen the oldest and strongest of demons; it is a purely convoluted magickal link that makes no sense except for me saying it has to be.”

“You could get another angel,” Gabriel says. “Cas' Grace is still healing and who's to say it is even strong enough after what Metatron did to him!”

“So, what,” Olle asks incredulous, “you want me to find another angel and kill it? I'd have to, you know, to keep it from finding out about all of you.” He laughs, it is not a happy sound. “That won't work anyway,” Olle says getting louder. “He's the only Fallen in existence anymore Gabriel, Crowley killed all the others! You know that!”

“Which doesn't mean you get to siphon him like a fucking blood slave!” Gabriel barks. 

“What the Hell are the two of you actually fighting about?” Cas wants to know, convinced it is something much more important than his giving a little blood away. 

“YOU!” they both bark, turning to look at Cas before Gabriel disappears. 

Olle lets out a growl of frustration and turns to Lucifer, with an angry thought, “You find him and you talk sense to him! Cas doesn't remember what this is even about and he damn well needs to!” Lucifer shakes his head, but he vanishes as well, gone in search of his brother. 

“What is going on?” Cas asks looking between Olle and Beth. 

“If the Fallen isn't strong enough to lose the amount of Grace needed for the blade, it could weaken and kill them,” Beth admits. 

“As a vessel, though,” Olle says turning to Cas, “you're stronger than any angel I've ever seen. Spending time with the only two living archangels, too, you're stronger now than you have been in years. I'd never do anything that would hurt you Cas,” Olle says sincerely. 

Cas nods, as they all sit down at one of the long dining tables, “I believe you, Olle. Tell me more about these blades and, if Sam and Dean are amenable, I'll be happy to give you the blood you need.” Olle smiles and starts to talk while the rest of the table listens.

**

“He's doing this just to piss me off!” Gabriel says as soon as Lucifer appears in front of him. The angel had gone back to the Bunker, hoping to be alone. 

“He isn't,” Lucifer says sincerely. “And he would never hurt Cas, you know that!”

“Yeah?” Gabriel is just being argumentative now, letting his anger make him make wild accusations. 

“Yeah,” Lucifer says coming over to pull his brother down into a chair. “He loves you and he would never do anything to hurt you. Hurting Cas would destroy you Gabriel, and he would die, permanently, before he did that.” Gabriel grumbles but nods grudging agreement. “Why then,” the older archangel asks, “did you pick a fight with him? Is this about Sam?”

“No,” he answers too quickly. 

“I know when you're lying, little brother,” Lucifer says taking him by the shoulders and forcing him to make eye contact. 

“Fine,” he sighs, “why'd he have to move on so fucking fast?”

“Because Sam's not going to be around forever,” Lucifer reasons. “Because it is better for him, for both of you, that he finds a way to let you go again. Maybe you should talk to Cas about Dean,” the devil muses. “Dean has been claimed and he and Cas seem to have found a way to work around it.”

“That's because Dean's a closet case,” Gabriel says, “and Cas understands even less about sex than you do.” He stands up and starts to pace around the library. “If I'd just never fucking told him I loved him!” he exclaims finally. “If he'd never told me he was in-love with me, never begged me stay with him, none of this would have happened! I'd've never thought about all the terrible shit I'd ever done to him and I'd've never branded him!”

“He told me you said you didn't mean to,” Lucifer states. “This whole thing sounds a lot more complicated than you told me it was.”

“I didn't mean to do it,” Gabriel admits, stopping his pacing to sit back down and look at his brother. “I just wanted him to forgive me for all the shit I'd done to him, all the ways I'd ever hurt him. I wanted to find a way to make it right.”

“I don't understand sex, Gabriel, but I understand love and I understand using love to get what you want out of someone,” Lucifer says then, a little harshly; after all, it was what Michael nearly did to him. “It sounds to me like you used his feelings for you to get what you could out of him and, when he started to expect more than you were willing to give, you gave just enough to keep him. You've done that forever, because you're too afraid to feel anything for him. Why?” Lucifer demands, knowing the answer, trying to get his brother to break. 

“Because,” Gabriel is uncomfortable and squirming in his seat. “Because Dad left,” he is quiet but getting louder. “You left. Cas left. Everyone fucking leaves!” he yells. “Why would Olle stay?” he wonders, deflated.

“But he has,” Lucifer says calmly. “Since the beginning, Gabriel, he stayed. He let you use him and throw him away over and over. He kept coming back because he loves you. And you kept, you keep, throwing him away. The only time you've ever shown him how much you really feel for him, and you immediately told him you didn't mean to.” Lucifer sighs and claps his brother on the back, “You need to stoop picking fights with him because you think he is trying to hurt you; he's not. He is with Sam now, though, and you need to let them be happy, for as long as it lasts, or you're going to lose your best friend. Picking fights with him over something you know he would never do is petty and it hurts him for no reason other than your jealousy.”

“You're right,” Gabriel admits sadly. “I owe him an apology.”

“You owe him a lot of apologies,” Lucifer says. “But, more importantly, Cas was left standing there wondering what was going on. He still has no memory of the two of you. Olle and Beth will lie before they tell him because they know how you feel. That's not fair, little brother; to any of them. You need to find a way to tell him.”

“I will,” he sighs. “How did you know?”

“Olle sent me to find you,” Lucifer says. “Even after how you've acted, even in his anger, he cares enough to send me after you.”

“I really am the most undeserving piece of shit,” Gabriel laments. 

“Not true little brother, not true,” Lucifer says. “At least you didn't kill your soulmate.” Gabriel shakes his head at his brother's words and tries to help him understand how that was an act of love.


	24. Chapter 24

Gabriel and Lucifer show back up in the kitchen, but Dean is the only one there. The hunter actually enjoys cleaning, while Sam has disappeared back into the library, and Beth and Olle are still working in the smithy; Balthazar left with Cas, to parts unknown, and Linda went to her room. Gabriel is about to take the opportunity to head back to the Bunker, but Dean stops him with a question, “Are you going to stop picking fights with Olle? Sam's oblivious right now, but he's not stupid.”

“It really was about Cas,” Gabriel says and Dean can't help but smile when Lucifer glares at his brother. “Mostly,” he admits with a shrug. “Look, I'm not with him. He can do what he wants, with who he wants; I've never stopped him before.”

“So why were you fighting about Cas?” Dean asks wiping down counters. “Olle wouldn't hurt him. If I believe that, you have to,” he says with a chuckle. 

Gabriel smiles, “Let him ask to siphon Sam and see how you feel.”

“Yeah, well, right now he and I are in agreement against Sam so I'm not questioning him too much,” Dean says coming over sit at the island. 

“Sam spoke to you?” Lucifer asks then and Dean nods, “I told him it was a bad idea; that it wouldn't work and it was too dangerous. I don't think he is going to listen, though.”

“Yeah, he wouldn't be Sam if he did,” Dean quips. “When has he ever done anything any of us ask him to?”

“What did Olle tell him?” Gabriel wants to know.

“Sammy said Olle was willing to listen, but only if he could find a safe way to do it.” Dean reaches, distracted, for a bottle he doesn't have, but one appears in his hand and he nods his general thanks. “Where did he come up with the idea, anyway?”

“Crowley,” Gabriel says to Dean's unamused chuckle as he turns up his beer. 

“Something about how 'possession works both ways' and I wish I'd never told him about my memories,” Lucifer laments

“We figure it out,” Gabriel says, turning to his brother, “because he is not going to stop until one of you remembers.”

“I've been trying Gabriel,” Lucifer says sadly. “I don't know why I can't. Maybe I just don't know,” he says seriously. 

“We'll keep working Luce,” Gabriel says. “Don't worry.”

“Easy for you to say, little brother,” Lucifer says. “You're not going to have to watch his mind shred apart while he tries to fix another of your mistakes.”

“What do you mean?” Dean demands, worried now. “Shred apart, what do you mean?”

“The first time you were a demon,” Gabriel says, thinking about everything he saw Olle do in Hell, “Alistair would have taught you how to read their minds.” Dean nods, uncomfortable, “Did you ever do more than that? Look at everything?”

“It helped,” Dean says quietly while shaking his head. “Knowing what they loved, what they were afraid of losing.” 

“Do you remember?” Gabriel asks. “Every soul? Every memory?”

“No,” Dean whispers, “barely any of it.”

“You can't,” Lucifer says. “Your mind can't contain it all. It's why Olle likes being human, why he and Beth have discovered they like being two people. It contains and divides, so their minds are relatively calm.”

“It'll be like when Cas broke his wall,” Dean realizes. “He'll be a vegetable again.”

Lucifer nods, “That's what I'm afraid of.”

“I think I have an idea,” Gabriel says suddenly and hops off his bar stool to head through the house in search of Sam. Dean and Lucifer share an inquisitive look before following. In the hallway, Gabriel continues to talk, “Just because Sam has all your memories,” he turns around to walk backwards and point at his brother, “and you can't remember, doesn't mean he has to access those memories for us to know what they are.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks. 

“I've got an idea!” the angel says turning into the living room and starting to search through the stacks for Sam. 

**

Sam is sitting in the library on the second floor with books spread out around him and his laptop open in front of him while he makes notes on a white legal pad. He thought he heard the door a moment ago, but he goes back to his research when there is no other noise. When he sees Lucifer, Dean, and Gabriel all coming toward him through the stacks, he knows something is up. 

“Heya kiddo,” Gabriel says dropping across from him at the table while Dean and Lucifer each take a seat beside their brother. “Any luck?”

“What are you three up to?” Sam wants to know, looking between them. They are, by far, the oddest group of conspirators he could ever imagine, but the only reason they would all be together is if they were up to something.

“Gabe's got a plan Sammy,” Dean says seriously, gesturing to the archangel so he can explain. 

“Right,” the angel starts. “Luce can't remember what we need to know but you think you can, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “It has to be in here somewhere.”

“Okay,” the angel goes on. “Just because it is, though, doesn't mean you should go looking for it. It's dangerous. So,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “what if we send Luci looking?”

He seems very proud of himself, but Sam doesn't fully understand so he asks, “A little more explanation, please, Gabriel; I'm not quite there yet.”

“I want to find a way to let Luce pick through your noggin kiddo,” Gabriel says in satisfaction. “He looks for his memories and then he searches through them; keeping you well away from the whole process, so your brain doesn't turn to oatmeal.”

Sam certainly sees it as a viable option so he asks, “How do we do that, then?”

Gabriel's enthusiasm falters a bit here, “I'm not sure yet,” he admits. “But,” he perks back up, “we're here to help you look and, I'm sure, we'll find a way in no time!”

**

Hours later, when Olle finally finds them, they have pushed two tables together and created a mountain of books and scrolls. Enlisting the help of Balthazar and Cas, they have accomplished more in a few hours than Sam could in days alone. Gabriel has moved, with a handful of useful scrolls, a book, and one tablet, to the couch in the corner of the room where he is scribbling down notes on Sam's legal pad. 

“Perfect,” the archangel says looking up at Olle, “come look at this. We've got a plan.”

“Awesome,” Olle says tiredly as he falls onto the couch beside Gabriel, head leaned back and eyes closed. “Hit me with it short stack,” he says. 

“I don't think you get to make fun of my height anymore,” the angel says settling in and flipping back a couple of pages to where Olle needs to start. Olle just shrugs and Gabriel starts explaining what he has found, “You remember that time in China?”

“I'm not letting you do that to Sam,” Olle looks at Gabriel affronted. “You're out of your fucking mind Gabe.”

“No, not that,” the angel dismisses with a laugh. “The old lady, not the Fiends.”

“Oh,” Olle sits up and takes the paper from Gabriel then, reading through it. “We don't have a seer,” he points out. 

“Turn the page,” the angel says. “I was going to substitute Lucifer's Grace, and Sam's latent psychic abilities, for the need for a seer.” 

Sam, Dean, and the other angels have made there way over to listen to the two of them talk. Olle keeps reading and, when he is finished, nods approvingly. “It should work,” the immortal says. “It's a hell of a lot safer than anything I've come up with. Just, keep tweaking it a little Gabe; I still don't like the idea of Sammy having any access to what Luce could see. It's too dangerous.”

Gabriel nods, taking back his notes, and picks up the stone tablet; ignoring everyone around him and getting back to work.


	25. Chapter 25

“So,” Olle says, pulling Sam into the stacks and backing him into a bookshelf, “whose bright idea was it to get Gabe to write this spell for you?” 

Olle is fresh from the shower, his hair is still wet and his skin is warm and damp, he smells like autumn and petrichor; Sam pulls him down into a deep kiss, using a days worth of pent up want and a little tongue. He pulls back to pant an answer, “He, Dean, and Lucifer came to me, actually.”

“Do you think they'll miss you?” Olle asks with a grin, arms going around the hunter so his giant hands can rub slow, kneading circles against Sam's ass. 

Sam chuckles, “Since everyone but Dean just heard you ask, I doubt it.” 

Olle doesn't waste another second, hands sliding down Sam's thighs to lift while the hunter, only startled for a moment, gets with the program and wraps himself around Olle at waist and neck. He presses Sam harder into the bookshelf to slide their lips together in a fierce kiss that lasts only secones and, then, Olle is headed for the door. 

In the hallway, Sam looks down at Olle smiling, and laughs, “I think I really do like that you're bigger than me.” Olle chuckles and stops outside the bedroom door to devour Sam's mouth again, pushing the door open and tripping through without losing focus. 

“I want you inside of me,” Sam pants, kicking the door shut behind them. 

“Fuck Sam!” Olle groans but he pauses to look at him seriously, “Are you sure?”

The hunter shakes his head, hair sweeping gently across his face to obscure his dimpled smile, “I'm positive.”

Olle puts him down, but does not let go of him, hands pulling him even closer by the ass and he kisses him, hard, before he smiles and says, “Okay.” 

Olle leans back in and presses their lips together slowly, running his tongue out to coax Sam's eager mouth open as he guides him backwards toward the bed. As Sam falls down on the bed, Olle's hands go under his t-shirt, pulling his shirts off in one easy motion before he backs up to drop his own shirt to the floor. 

“I don't think there is a part of you I don't want to suck, bite, or lick,” Sam says happily, reaching out for Olle's belt, to pull the bigger man down on the bed with him. He chuckles happily as their mouths slot together again and he starts to work his way back onto the bed while Olle crawls over him; both men kicking their shoes to the floor at the very edge of the giant bed, their tangled limbs making it harder than it ought to be and they laugh at the confusion. 

As Olle settles across Sam's denim clad thighs, he sits back and just takes in the bare chested hunter spread out beneath him. “If I ever get tired of looking at you, it will be the end of Creation,” Olle sighs before running his hands up Sam's body to settle his forearms by Sam's head. Running his hands through Sam's still overlong hair, he rubs his stubbled cheek against Sam's still unshaven face, “I'm going to have to enjoy this while it lasts,” he says sadly while Sam laughs. “You can't look like a lumberjack and an FBI agent; next case you catch, this'll be gone.” Olle turns into Sam's mouth, then and is met with plundering aggression. 

“It's easy enough to grow back,” Sam says happily when he finally let's Olle catch his breath. 

Olle growls as he starts to work his way down Sam's body, memorizing every dip and curve and scar with hands and mouth. When his tongue finally curves along the top of Sam's waistband, the hunter is flushed and panting, body red and tingling from Olle's oral exploration. Sam's hips try to jump off the bed, but Olle's weight is still settled firmly across his legs and Sam whines in frustration but Olle only chuckles, hands wrapped firmly around the smaller man's hips, “Soon enough Sammy, don't worry; I'll get there.” Olle slides quickly up Sam's body then to take his mouth, tongue thrusting into an eager, open mouth and curling around Sam's waiting muscle before mapping every corner and pulling away so teeth can worry gently at his bottom lip before Olle is sliding off the bed; taking the rest of Sam's clothes with him. 

Sam laughs, looking down his naked body at Olle, still only without his shirt, “You're good; I didn't even notice what you were doing.”

Olle just smiles, eyes roaming Sam's body hungrily; firm, muscled thighs coated in a slight dusting of hair, chest like it was sculpted from marble, marred only by his anti-possession tattoo. His gaze finally stopping on Sam's rock hard cock bobbing against his lower abs. Reaching for the nightstand drawer as he sheds the rest of his clothes, Olle throws lube on bed while he says, “I do my best.” Sam grins, eyes doing a slow sweep of Olle's body as well, as he pulls himself up in the bed, against the pillows; legs spread in open invitation. Olle crawls up the bed to settle between Sam's spread legs and stare before saying, “You really sure about this Sam, because I'm pretty sure I'd be satisfied just staring at you?”

Sam leans forward and pulls Olle into him for a slow kiss before he says, “I'm absolutely sure.”

Olle settles back down on the bed before reaching for the bottle he threw there earlier. “When was the last time you let someone do this?” Olle wants to know. 

“I went home with the bartender at Rosewood, when we were in Philly,” Sam says sheepishly, watching Olle's lust addled gaze sweep slowly over his body, leaving a trail of burning hot skin in his wake. 

Olle nods, “So it's only been a few weeks and not a few years, good. We'll go achingly slowly anyway,” he grins, leaning forward to tease at Sam's mouth again before sliding down his thick, beautiful neck to nibble and lick his way over Sam's body. When he reaches the deep cut of Sam's hips, he moves up to chew delicately at the hunter's well formed obliques before dragging his teeth all the way across Sam's body to do the same on the opposite side.

As Olle noses his way down Sam's thigh, the hunter asks, “Condom?”

Olle sighs, stopping his ministrations to lay himself over the length of Sam's body so they can talk, “You haven't been with anyone since Philly, right?” Olle asks rutting against Sam's hip while he peppers kisses along Sam's bearded jaw. 

“I haven't,” Sam says, distracted but curious. “Why?”

Olle plants a kiss against the corner of Sam's mouth, “Lucifer healed your foot.”

Sam has wrapped his arms around Olle's chest and his legs around the big man's thighs so they are thrusting against each other slowly. “Yeah?” Sam is curious as Olle plants another, more lingering kiss, on his mouth. 

“He doesn't know how not to heal everything,” Olle smiles. “If there was anything wrong with you before, there wouldn't be now.”

“What about you and that guy Mark?” Sam wonders pulling away some to stare Olle down. 

“Well,” Olle kisses him again, thrusting against him a bit harder as they both start to pant, “Luce healed me this morning, remember? Anyway, Mark wasn't anyone. Beth wanted to talk to me and she glamoured up Luce to come get me so I wasn't just disappearing.” He gasps, but stops moving to slide back down Sam's body, Sam reluctantly unwrapping himself so Olle can settle, once again, between his legs.


	26. Chapter 26

“So you're still a virgin,” Sam assumes.

Olle smiles and, taking a deep breath, dives right in, “No. While you and Dean were gone with Sully,”

“You had sex with someone,” Sam finishes and Olle nods his head. “Who?” he is curious not accusatory.

Honesty, they promised each other, and he will keep that promise; not matter what it costs him, “Gabriel,” he says. 

Sam stops, he was not, in fact, as oblivious as Dean thought. He just hadn't thought about the two of them still being together. “So,” he starts to back up the bed a little bit, away from Olle, “you guys have an open relationship or something?”

“What?” Olle starts, confused. “Fuck Sam, no!” he reaches out, taking Sam by the thigh and putting one hand on his chest. “No! He and I aren't anything! We haven't been anything in a long fucking time!” Olle is pretty sure that is true, mostly. 

Sam settles down then, and wants to know, “But you were?”

Olle shakes his head, there goes the slow, exhausting sex he should have been having; if only he had just grabbed a condom and kept his mouth shut! “I already told you, Sam, Gabriel was my first at pretty much everything. After all the stuff with the Mark happened, after the spell Gabriel and I hinted at earlier, Creation was starting over. We spent too long to think about, drifting in the Fairy Realms. When we finally came back here, we went our separate ways; both of us pretending to be men. We spent as little time as possible with each other, in case Michael or the Grigori found either of us and, when he decided to become a god, I avoided him on principle. I didn't like what he was becoming, the things he was doing. When I came back from Hell, though, I was so fucked up! He was the only coherent thought I had. He was with Kali then, though, and didn't stay any longer than it took to patch me up, make me functional again. I never even tried to do more than be civil with him if we ran into each other, after that; until you boys kicked the doors on the apocalypse. But, even then, we weren't together.” Olle sighs, being truthful sucks in a very bad way, “He's my best friend, and he has been my lover, but he is not my boyfriend or my soulmate or anything that should make you think twice about him or us. Okay?” Olle reaches forward to cup Sam's face and kiss him, trying to convey how serious he is about Sam and what they are doing.

“So why did you have sex with him?” Sam asks. He is sure he is not jealous, he keeps telling myself, but he is curious. He knew they must have been close, even knew they must have been lovers. Now, though, that it has been said out loud, he wants to know everything. He knows this is a mood killer, but he really just can't seem to stop himself.

Olle feels like all he does, now that the people around him know the truth, is explain himself. “When he came back,” he shakes his head, “It was a distraction for both of us. A way to put aside everything that was happening and just have something familiar,” Olle sighs. “We knew it was stupid. We knew it was going to have to stop. We felt like we were spiraling into us to get away from everything else and it was dangerous. So, we stopped.” Olle smiles now, “I never thought meeting you would lead to this.” He kisses Sam again. “I'm not with you because I can't be with him and I'm not, not with him because I want to be with you. I just want to be with you and he has nothing to do with that, at all,” Olle says firmly, because it is the absolute truth. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Sam nods, sure Olle means what he is saying. 

“Good,” Olle sighs, stretching himself back out over Sam. “Are we okay?” he wants to know.

Sam pulls Olle down into a hungry kiss before he answers, “We're okay. I'm just glad I know. But,” he isn't sure why he asks but he wants to know, “what were the two of you fighting about earlier? Was it really about Cas?”

“It was, actually,” Olle chuckles. “I'm not going to explain it, though, because it is an angel thing and a brother thing,” he says putting an end to the conversation by wiggling his hips snugly into Sam's groin and kissing him slowly, trying to stoke their banked fire. It seems to work, Sam groans and rocks his pelvis up into Olle's as his flagging erection starts to come back to life. 

Olle makes his way back down Sam's body while reaching for the lube and, as he licks a stripe up Sam's once again rock hard, weeping cock, he starts to slick his fingers. 

Sam tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut, as Olle takes more and more of him in; working his tongue and groaning in satisfaction. Sam tries to force his eyes open and look down at Olle, who does his best to grin when they make eye contact. Sam opens his legs more, bending his knees, and groans out, “Fuck Olle! So good! Please!” as the immortal circles one slick finger around his entrance. 

Sam's mind whites out, body humming at lightening speed as Olle slowly brings him to the edge over and over. Olle works up to, finally, using three fingers on the hunter's prostate; his other hand and his sinfully skilled mouth on Sam's aching cock. 

Olle finally pulls his mouth away and looks up at Sam, the hunter is flushed all the way down his chest, body damp with sweat, muscles tense, hair sticking to his face, eyes totally blown with lust; it is a look Olle wants to see from now on, as often as he can. “So fucking beautiful,” he pants out before he has to lean in and claim Sam's mouth. 

The taste of himself in Olle's mouth is intoxicating and Sam can barely think because the bigger man is still working his ass, pressing against his prostate, but he takes a moment to look down Olle's muscled, hairy torso to see his cock, pulsing pre-cum in time with his heartbeat, as long as Sam's own impressive size and thicker, “Please Olle,” he pants out wrapping his hands around the big man's waist and neck to pull him in for another frantic kiss, “I need you in me now!”

Olle eases away from Sam just enough to slick himself with lube before he braces on the bed and guides his cock to Sam's grasping hole. Body bow tense, Olle presses in slowly as Sam groans in pleasure at the feeling of being filled so completely. “Fuck Sam, you're so tight!” Olle grits out, hand clamped around the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. “You feel so fucking good!”

Sam pulls his knees into his chest, keening as Olle finally bottoms out. The big man leans forward to lick into Sam's mouth, giving them both a chance to adjust to this feeling. When Sam breaks for air and reaches down to grip Olle's ass with both hands, the doctor starts a slow drag out before pushing back in easy; working to find the perfect angle. When Sam's hands spasm, body arching off the bed and he nearly screams, “Oh God Olle, right there!” the immortal knows he has found what he was looking for and increases his pace. 

After a few perfect thrusts, Sam rocking into every one, Olle drops the hunter's legs to press them even closer together. Sam runs his hands all over Olle's body, everywhere he can reach, and melts into the building heat between them. Olle leans down to claim Sam's mouth, ensuring his cock is getting precious friction between them as his own orgasm starts to build. Pulling away just enough to speak, Olle pants, “Come on Sam, are you close? I want you to come Sammy, can you?”

Sam's whole body is starting to tense with pleasure and, eyes tight shut, all he can do is shake his head frantically while Olle starts to thrust into him harder and faster, burying his head in the crook of Sam's neck to take in his scent and worry the skin there; reveling in the taste while leaving a dark purple bruise. When Sam cums, his whole body tenses up around Olle and the big man lets that pull him over, spilling inside Sam's spasming body as he continues to thrust; ensuring they both ride the pleasure wave as long as possible before easing out and collapsing half on top of Sam with a slow, satisfied kiss.


	27. Chapter 27

Sam lies there, mind reeling from the force of his orgasm, trying to catch his breath while Olle does the same, snuggled into the crook of Sam's neck, nose buried behind his ear. He is pretty sure they are in a pool of lube and cum that is going to dry into a disgusting mess, but at least they are near the edge of the ridiculously wide bed. Before either of them can form more coherent thoughts, however, they both drift into an easy sleep. 

A couple of hours later, Olle wakes to the feeling of Sam moving away from him in the bed and he rolls over to ask, “Are you okay?”

Sam nods, stopping his movements to lean in and kiss Olle before saying, “I'm sticky and gross, though.”

Olle chuckles, “Yeah, both of us. Shower?” he asks and Sam nods. 

The hot water feels amazing and Olle pressing Sam into the wall leads to the hunter coming again, buried deep in the immortal's throat while he jacks off in time to Sam's orgasm. When they are both clean, they stumble through the dark, and find the clean side of the bed to curl into one another and settle into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

**

When Olle's alarm goes off at six-thirty, he intends to turn it off and go back to sleep, but by the time he is forced to get up and look for the phone, still in his pocket, he is fully awake. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sam rolls into him and, yawning, asks, “Are you getting up?”

Olle smiles and, stretching back out along the length of his beautifully naked boyfriend, says, “I could be persuaded to stay in bed,” before kissing Sam long and slow. Olle is running his hands over every inch of Sam; smooth, warm skin over hard muscle and the occasional patch of hair; Olle wants to know, not just remember, every inch of him. 

Sam uses his whole body to roll them over until Olle is pinned beneath him. Settling on the bigger man's thighs, Sam sits back and looks his fill at the well muscled, hairy body, and he reaches out to smooth his hands over it. “Tell me about your tattoos,” Sam says curiously, fingers tickling over the tree on his right side.

Olle curls his arm behind his head so Sam can get a better look and starts to explain, “In 2005, when I remembered I wasn't just Mikhail, I died in Afghanistan and woke up naked in the States. I went to Bobby, happy he was alive, so he could help me. When I realized I was too late to stop the beginning of the end, I had to find ways to protect myself from what was coming. It was dumb luck I ran into Fen, but he was always a skilled artist.”

“Fenrir, the alpha werewolf, did this?” Sam asks taking a closer look.

Olle nods his head, “He did all of them. I wanted the anti-possession tattoo for appearance's sake, because I was going to start hunting again as soon as I got Mikhail straightened out. The tree,” he chuckles, “was his idea, when I started talking about a way to protect myself from curses and supernatural infections.”

“It's layered,” Sam notices. “What does each layer do?”

“Each Enochian glyph contains a spell,” Olle explains. “the Cuneiform is another spell and the Old Skald that works its way through all of it is a story. The red,” he indicated four lines of chicken scratch contained in each symbol making up the tree, “is a binding to keep it all together and makes it work.”

“Does it work?” Sam wants to know. 

Olle shrugs, “Beth wasn't hurt by the curse Crowley used on me. It's something to just prevent infection of the soul really,” Olle admits. “When Cain told me he lost the blade, when you released Lucifer, I was worried about The Darkness. If Dean had given in to Michael and won,” Olle shakes his head. “I don't think Michael could have beaten him, but he could have easily found the Blade and killed Cain. She is getting stronger and she will start to infect those around her, not just kill or consume. I don't know what would happen to me, to Creation, if my body were infected; I have to hope this will protect everything.” Sam leans forward then and kisses Olle before moving to read the names on his side; he kisses each of them but make no mention of what they represent. “Odin,” Olle says talking about his calf tattoo while Sam lays on his chest, “was just because it was something my brother always wanted and will probably never get; our mother doesn't approve of tattoos.” He wraps his arms around Sam and they lie quietly for a while. Both men content, they drifted back to sleep without even realizing. 

At nine o'clock, Olle's phone rings, waking the two men who, though turned on their sides, are still wrapped around each other. “Hello,” Olle says groggily into the phone as Sam starts to stir against his chest. 

“I made breakfast,” Beth's voice comes cheerily out of the phone. 

“Oh yeah,” Olle starts to stretch and Sam rolls away to do the same. “We'll be down in a minute.”

“What's going on?” Sam wonders, voice sleep rough. 

“Breakfast,” Olle answers and Sam nods, getting up to look for his clothes. 

Once both hunters are dressed, they make there way downstairs to the kitchen where Beth is waiting for them, alone. “Where is everyone?” Olle wonders taking the perfect cup of coffee she hands him. 

“Everyone, Dean included, went back to the Bunker to help Gabriel, since he spent all that time helping you out yesterday,” she says throwing Gabriel's legal pad from last night on the island in front of where Olle just sat. “Hey Sam,” she says as Olle starts to read through the completed ritual, the hunter nods in return. “I don't know how you like your coffee, help yourself,” she points at the pot and an empty cup.

“Black is fine,” he says filling his cup and coming over to look at what Olle is reading. “What language is that?”

Olle stops reading to examine the words in front of him, “It's Enochian,” he says before going back to reading. 

“Why do you always have to stop and think before you answer?” his boyfriend asks. 

Beth sits two plates in front of them and answers, “We tend to think in the language we are speaking or reading and, when another language cuts us off, we have to reset a bit and process. It gets more complicated the further away from each other the two languages are. It isn't translation, it's immersion so it's different.”

“Transitioning from other primarily Latin or Greek based languages is much more fluid,” Olle says sitting the notepad aside to look down at his plate. “Eggs Florentine, Beth, awesome.”

“Thanks,” she says filling her coffee cup before taking a seat beside him. “Gabe's ritual looks pretty good. Safe and everything,” she says. 

Olle nods, “It does. Are you sure you still want to do this Sam?” he asks turning to the hunter. 

Sam swallows, turning to look at both of them, “If you think it is safe, if Lucifer thinks he can do this, then absolutely.”

“Okay,” Olle says. “Can you wait, though, please? Until I've finished the sword and we are all back at the Bunker, where it is safe; another week or so is all I'm asking Babe? The warding there, once all the doors are sealed, is nearly impregnable and I'd feel so much better about it if we were somewhere with better medical facilities and stronger warding.”

Sam smiles when Olle calls him 'Babe' and thinks for a moment before he agrees, “Once everyone is agreed and we are all settled back at the Bunker.”

“Thank you,” Olle leans over and kisses him. 

When they are both done eating, the three of them head out to forge and Sam watches, asking questions, while Olle works on the sword with Beth's help.


	28. Chapter 28

Gabriel has been sitting for hours, staring at the same page of the same book, while everyone around him is actually being productive. Finally, Lucifer comes over to sit beside his brother and ask, “Are you ever going to at least turn the page, so I'll think you're okay?”

Gabriel laughs quietly, happy his brother is, really, getting better. “I figured I'd use it as a cry for help; see how long it took one of you to notice. Neglectful assholes, how long have I been sitting here?”

“Long enough that Dean asked me if you were okay,” Lucifer says. “Where have you been?” he figures he knows the answers but wants to find out if Gabriel will tell him where his mind has been all day.

“I'm worried about you,” Gabriel says finally. “That ritual I wrote will put you smack in the middle of it all again; I wonder if you'll be able to handle it.”

“I know,” he reaches out to take the book out of his brother's hand and put it on the table. “I do too,” he admits quietly. “Olle keeps telling me I carry my past, but I can't wear it; that's what I'm going to have to remember.”

Gabriel feels the need to point out, “Olle can't forget or suppress and, apparently, we can. Just, remember that. If he can keep going after the Mark, after Hell, then you should have no problem stepping over what you're going to remember.”

“I will try, little brother, I will.” He looks at Gabriel seriously, then, “When are you going to talk to Cas? You can't keep putting this off, Gabriel. This is part of you moving forward, away from Olle.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Sitting there, last night, trying not to lose my mind while they,” he stops, clenching his fist. “Trying not to listen, not to hear.” He shakes his head in confusion, “How does Cas do it? How can he just let Dean go on, and on? Olle is mine and I know letting him go is the only way I get to keep him, but I can't even answer the question of why Beth and Balthazar don't bother me. How did you feel when Michael was with Amara?”

Lucifer is quiet for a long time before he shrugs, “Our relationship was never about that. I wanted him to be happy but, when I came to see what she was, I wanted him to be safe. Does Cas' relationship with Dean bother you?” Lucifer wonders. 

“When I first saw him again, it did.” He shakes his head, “Now, though, I love him and, like you, I want him to be happy and I want him to be safe. For some inexplicable reason, Dean makes him happy and I can keep him safe.”

“But he still needs to know, to remember,” Lucifer reasons. “Keeping the truth from him isn't right. It's manipulative and as bad as anything Michael or Naomi did to him.”

Gabriel looks over at his soulmate, where he sits beside Dean, helping the hunter translate a book, “I know Luce, I know. I just don't know how he's going to react. He left on purpose,” Gabriel gets out painfully. “He wanted to go. If he did that, why would he want to remember?”

“It isn't about wanting,” his brother says seriously. “It's about making him whole again. I know what it's like to be less than you are and he is severely diminished right now,” the archangel says following Gabriel's line of sight to their younger brother. “We need to tell him and we need to find a way to fix whatever Micheal and Metatron broke. If nothing else, we need his skill and his power.”

“Can it wait,” Gabriel pleads, looking up at Lucifer, “just a little while longer, please? Just, we don't even know how to fix him yet, when Olle figures that out; then I'll tell him,” Gabriel promises. 

“Okay, Gabe,” his brother gives in, “but, just until Olle and I find a way to fix him.” The younger archangel shakes his head in agreement and picks his book back up, but his brother cuts in, “The reason Beth doesn't touch you the way Olle does, little brother, is that she isn't him, not really. He is who he was always meant to be and that is who you are in love with, that is who you wanted to claim. She, Creation, everything else, are just pieces of a whole, of him.” The devil walks away then, stopping to speak to Kevin and, finally, sitting down with the prophet and Linda to pick up a book and start reading.

Gabriel watches his brother walk away and shakes his head; those children's books and psychology texts were making him far too insightful. Gabriel goes back to his book, hoping one of them finds something useful soon. 

**

A few hours later, Cas' cell phone rings while he is reading a Chinese binding spell. Picking up while he continues to read, he mumbled, distractedly into the phone, in Chinese“Hello?”

“Hey Cas,” Olle answers in Chinese. 

“Is everything okay?” the angel wants to know, not even realizing they are both speaking Chinese. 

“Yeah, Cas,” the immortal responds. “I was just wondering if you'd given it any more thought, if you'd be willing to give me the blood I need?”

“Oh,” he says putting his book down. “Now?”

“If you can spare a half hour or so, yeah,” Olle says. 

“Sure,” Cas says. 

“Bring Lucifer,” Olle says. “I need someone to hold you down.”

“There in a minute,” Cas says, trying not to think about what Olle just said.

Hanging up, he turns to Dean who is beside him reading a Latin exorcism text from the early Christian era. “That was Olle, I'm going to go give him the blood he needs. He said it shouldn't be more than a half hour.”

“What?” Dean wonders, looking up from his book confused, because Cas has yet to switch back to English. The angel seems to realize, then, what happened and, with a bashful smile, repeats himself so Dean can understand, and the hunter responds “You want me to come with?” 

Cas shakes his head, “He asked me to bring Lucifer, but I believe it was implied the rest of you need to stay here.”

“Oh, that definitely means I'm going,” Dean says putting his book down. 

“Dean,” Cas says with a serious tilt to his head, “Sam is there; Olle won't hurt me. I'll be fine. Stay here and help Gabriel.”

“Okay,” Dean acquiesces, “but, if you need anything, you pray to Gabriel or Balthazar and we'll be right there.”

“Of course Dean,” he says getting up and heading over to Lucifer, still sitting with Kevin and Linda. “Brother,” he says reaching out to put a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. 

The archangel looks up at Cas, “I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I could just hear,” he admits. “I'll be glad to come with you.”

“Thank you, Lucifer,” Cas says before they both disappear. Dean looks over at Gabriel, both of them uneasy. They share a look before returning to their research, only really pretending to concentrate.


	29. Chapter 29

The devil and his brother appear in Kansas City aiming for the closest proximity to Olle they can without displacing anything around them, therefore, they arrive crowded in the doorway of the butler's pantry behind Olle. The monotone, “Hello Sam,” Cas gets out makes the immortal jump, startled. 

Lucifer cannot help but laugh while he moves himself across the room with a thought. He looks at Beth, who he has reappeared beside, “Why do I have to hold him down?”

“We have to use an angel blade,” she answers. “It is going to hurt, it has to be somewhere that won't heal immediately. Why do you think we don't want Gabe here?” 

Lucifer nods in understanding, “He's going to be okay, though, right?” He trusts them, more, probably, than Cas, who is willingly giving them his blood, but he needs the reassurance. 

Beth smiles, reaching out to hug the angel close by the waist for a moment, “He'll be fine Luce; I promise.” 

“Okay,” Olle says then, “Let's all head into the dining room.” 

The five of them file out the two doors at either end of the room. Olle has already prepared before calling Cas, so two of the nine six foot tables have been cleaned off and made ready. “Okay Cas,” Olle says patting the tables, “Just like when you were cursed, please remove all your top layers and lie down.” Eyeing the tables, shoved together at one end and covered with a sheet, Cas starts to strip, folding each layer and putting it safely on the round table beside him. When he is laid out, awkwardly, on the table, Olle looks up at Lucifer on the opposite side of the table, “Again, just like when he was cursed, arms above his head this time, hold him down. And don't,” Olle thinks to mention when Lucifer reappears straddle his brother's thighs, “heal him until I tell you to.”

Both angels relax into their positions, Lucifer maintaining a firm grip on his brother. Both tense slightly when Beth hands Olle a strangely shaped blade. “What is that?” Sam asks from his position leaning against one of the many built-ins in the room. 

“I can't believe I even found it,” Olle says. “It started out an angel blade, longer ago than I care to think about.”

“What did you do to it?” Sam asks. The blade is a long as an angel blade and, almost, looks like a huge piercing needle. 

“I stabbed a Fallen with a regular blade,” Olle says while starting to examine Cas' right side carefully. “I was just trying to distract it, but I ended up stabbing a demon right after and,while it didn't kill him, it hurt him, badly.”

“After that,” Beth goes on a little louder, as Cas groans in pain while Olle proceeds to push a good six inches of the blade into his side, “I started to experiment with how to make blades that could kill a demon.”

“It took me a long time to figure out how to reforge an angel blade,” Olle says working the tool deeper while Cas cries out in pain. Olle grabs a large ceramic cup and twists the end of the needle off to fill the cup while Cas writhes, Lucifer straining to hold him down. When the cup is nearly full, Olle pulls the needle free and says, “Go ahead and heal him Luce.” 

Cas lies, panting, under his brother, sweaty and exhausted. The archangel sits back and, placing one hand over the puncture wound in his brother's side and the other on his chest, makes him whole again. Lucifer is, then, standing, while Cas sits up like nothing happened. “Will that be enough for the first blade?” he wonders as he goes to start getting dressed. 

“Should be Cas, thanks” Olle says while he drains the last of the angel's blood into the cup. “You'll be a bit weaker for a few days, but nothing like when you were cursed or when Gabe zapped your memory.”

“Good,” the angel says pulling on his coat. “When will we need to do this again?” he asks. 

“In about a week,” Beth says taking the blood and heading back into the butler's pantry. 

Olle starts to clean up, grabbing the sheet and taking the needle into the other room to clean and put away. “Only if you're up for it, Cas. We can wait longer, if you want.”

“We'll see,” he says following Olle. Once they are all back in the kitchen, Cas asks, “Do you need anything else?”

“Nope,” Beth says. “How's it going, though? Back at the Bunker?”

“We are getting through a surprising amount of information,” Cas answers. 

“Not much of it, however,” Lucifer says, “seems to be helpful.”

“I guess we just gotta keep at it,” Olle says. “Beth and I will talk about it and pull some things for you guys to go through here.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer says. “I think Gabriel is going to be staying at the Bunker for a while, though. He is rather immersed in the research there and has gone through much of what is here already. Balthazar and I can look though your selections.” 

Olle looks at the archangel for a long time before he nods, “Okay Luce, whatever you guys decide.”

With a nod, Lucifer turns to Cas and says, “You should be getting back, Cas. You told them a half hour and if you're longer than that, they'll worry. I'm going to talk to Beth and Olle about some research.”

“Okay Lucifer,” Cas says. “You're right, and, thank you for your help.” He is gone before his brother can do more than smile.


	30. Chapter 30

With Cas gone, Olle watches the archangel look at Sam nervously, “What is it?” Olle asks, knowing something is going on. 

“Can I speak to you alone, Olle, maybe, please?” the archangel wonders. 

“Sammy,” Olle says not breaking eye contact with the devil, “can you and Beth take the blood out and she can teach you how to choose and stack tiles to make a billet.” The others head for the door, Sam curious, but following along; for now. 

“Why do you call him Sammy?” Lucifer wonders when Sam is gone. “I thought he hated it unless Dean was the one saying it.”

“That's why I do it,” Olle says. “It's the same reason I don't call you Luci.”

The angel blushes then, sitting down at the island, before he asks, “I don't understand?”

“Cain and Abel were soulmates. You and Michael. Sam and Dean,” Olle says sitting down beside him. “It had to be. I try not to use your brother's name for you because I know it hurts you to hear it. I do use Sammy because it shows him how much I care about him and it reminds him of Dean.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer says quietly. “You're right, I don't like hearing it. But, you make it sound like Sam is using you as a substitute for Dean.”

Olle laughs, “He isn't? Brady wasn't? Or Riot?” The immortal leans on the island some to stare at Lucifer, “If, by some miracle, we wind up together years or decades or whatever, I'll never be his first priority. I'll never even be his second priority. I'm willing to take whatever he's willing to give me, but Dean and saving people, hunting; I'll never be more important to him than that.”

“That's no way to live,” Lucifer says firmly. “Not after everything you've given up for Gabriel. You deserve better.”

“I doubt that,” Olle says quickly. “Ask your father. Sam deserves better. Sam deserves Dean. That'll never happen, though. They'll do a lot of things, but they'll never do that. So, if Sam is happy, I'm happy. We just gotta figure out a way to get Dean and Cas to pull their heads outta their asses and see what everyone around them has been staring at for years.”

Lucifer smiles, “Gabe implied the same thing earlier day.”

“You didn't hang around to talk to me about Sam or this,” Olle says changing the subject. “What's going on?”

“It is about Cas,” Lucifer gets serious, turning to face Olle. “His Grace. We need to find a way to fix him. We need to find a way to repair the damage done not only by Metatron but Michael.”

Olle nods, “I agree. He was a powerful asset during both wars. He was masterful in battle and he was the best combat instructor I've ever seen.”

“I've been talking to Gabe,” Lucifer admits. “You're right, Cas needs to remember. I made a deal with him, as soon as we can repair the damage done, Gabe will help him remember and will tell him about them.”

Olle nods, “You know I've been thinking about it. I have a few ideas, I've dug up a few things. None of them any of you are going to like, though. They all involve some sort of human or angel sacrifice.”

“We can just keep looking,” Lucifer says. 

Olle nods, getting up and heading for the door, “Do you want to come watch me make this blade or do you want to go back to the Bunker?”

“I'll come with you,” he says standing to follow Olle outside. “If that's okay, I mean. I just can't keep sitting there watching Dean and Cas and watching Gabe watch them. It's starting to border the ridiculous. I knew, being around them while Cas was healing, but I don't know if I'm becoming more aware of it or more aware of Gabriel noticing.”

Olle chuckles as they head into the sun room, “I'm not sorry, but I'm sorry about last night. Is he okay?” Olle wants to know. 

Lucifer shrugs, “It was hard for him not to just leave, but it needed to happen. When we all go back to the Bunker, the soundproofing in your room can be enhanced and it will get better,” he says as they finally step inside the smithy. 

Watching Olle and Beth begin the welding process, Sam and Lucifer talk about the ritual Gabriel wrote. Each deciding Olle was right to insist they wait to return to the Bunker. Olle goes into detail about how well fortified the Bunker is when properly sealed, and Beth explains to them the different types of warding used as well as how they were combined to be even stronger together than alone. 

When the individual pieces of steel Olle welded together have been drawn out, he looks over at his boyfriend and the angel, “Y'all are taller than her, come help me.” 

Sam chuckles, wondering, “When did you start using y'all? You're from Finland.”

“No, I'm not,” Olle and Beth both answer together. 

“I was born in Tennessee and raised in Virginia. It's a good word, leave it alone.” Olle says with a grin. He leaves the billet in the forge and hands Lucifer a cutting tool before he picks up a hammer, “When Sam lays it out, we're just cutting it almost all the way in two. So, place the cutter in the center of the billet and I'll cut it. Sam,” Olle takes him over to check the steel, “when it's ready, you pull it out and lay it length wise on the width of the anvil. After the cut, turn it,” Olle grabs a piece of re-bar and, with Lucifer's help, demonstrates what he is talking about. “When you flip it, hit it with the wire brush to get rid of the scale. Luce will lay some flux, and I'll finish the fold before you set it back in the forge. Everybody got it?” He asks looking between them. When they all nod, Olle checks the billet again and, moving around the anvil, tells Sam, “Yellow is too hot for what we're doing. We want a solid orange, you may need to pull the end out to check the color, that's fine.” With Olle's coaxing, Sam and Lucifer help him cut, fold, and weld the steel over and over again for the rest of the day; twelve times total for just over one-hundred thousand layers of steel. 

At some point, Beth leaves to make dinner and, long after it is dark, she comes back to the forge, “Guys,” she yells over the sound of the power hammer, “it's eight o'clock. Everyone else is back, there's food.” That, at least, got their attention; even Lucifer likes to eat. After burying the blade in the fire and banking it, essentially leaving it to anneal overnight, they head inside.


	31. Chapter 31

Dinner conversation is more of the same talk; going over what they have accomplished during the day, what they intend to do tomorrow. Afterwards, they go their separate ways; Gabriel and Kevin return to the Bunker and Cas decides to join them, Beth and Balthazar disappear upstairs to their room, and Linda vanishes upstairs as well. Lucifer, Olle, and the brothers are left at the table, Olle is about to suggest he and Sam head downstairs to the sauna, but the devil interrupts him, “Olle, I believe we should talk to Sam and Dean about what we are trying to do for Cas.”

“Okay Luce,” Olle says getting up to grab them all a beer, “shoot.”

The angel nods, not sure, now that he is the center of attention, where to start. After a few moments of thought, he begins nervously, “We've told you Michael made the Host forget what really happened.” When both Winchesters nod, he is encouraged and goes on with more confidence. “Gabriel, Castiel, Legion, and Balthazar followed me here when Michael cast me out of Heaven. Gabriel, like me, had been here before.”

“He and I were already acquainted when Lucifer was cast out,” Olle says handing each of them a cold bottle. “He wanted to protect his brother from Michael and, when we realized how he was changing, protect Creation from him.”

“Cas and Legion,” Lucifer goes on, “were Gabriel's lieutenants. He was terrifying on the battlefield,” Lucifer says. 

“He could have easily killed Cain if it were possible,” Olle cuts in. 

“He nearly bested me in battle, when Olle and I were pitted against he and Gabriel,” Lucifer admits to shocked, speechless Winchesters. “It took all of them to force me into the Cage.”

“After, though,” Olle speaks now, “Michael used strong magick to withdrawal the Host, pulling everyone back to Heaven; even if they didn't want to go. Lucifer was in the Cage and Gabriel was strong enough to withstand the force of the spell.”

“What happened?” Sam asks. 

“We don't know what Michael did to him,” Lucifer says, “but he is diminished. When he needs to be, he is still a raging force.” Lucifer shakes his head, “When I lured him away and trapped him in Carthage, I was surprised by what had been done to him, but he was still able to free himself from Holy Fire, and powerful angel warding, to rescue you both.”

“He was strong enough to do what he did in Hell, and pull you out,” Olle says being vague, because he has no idea how much Dean actually remembers or how much Sam really knows. “Falling, though,” Olle goes on, “weakened him, because he was cut off from the regenerative power of Heaven.”

“With Gabriel and I here, now, though, that is no longer an issue,” Lucifer says. “He should be much, much stronger than he is, even after what Michael did to him.”

“What do mean?” Dean demands. “What's wrong with him?”

“We really don't know what Michael did to him and, with Naomi and Legion dead, we may never. Even if we can restore his memories, he may not be able to tell us,” Olle admits. “Metatron, though, damaged his Grace further when he used it in his spell.”

“He will take power from Gabriel and myself,” Lucifer says, “but that, or trying to heal him, has no effect on whatever was done.”

“When Rowena nearly killed me,” Olle says, “I realized how diminished he was. I started to look into what could be done to help him. I'm not even sure I could heal him if he were to use me as a vessel again; I could feel the damage but I'm not sure I could fix it. I wanted to try when he was cursed, but he was already so weak and I was afraid any more stress would do more harm than good.”

“Olle and I are going to start looking for a way to reverse his status as Fallen,” Lucifer says. “And, there must be a way to repair his broken, diminished Grace. We will need him at full power to help us defeat Amara.”

“But you haven't told him any of this,” Sam realizes when he remembers Lucifer sending his brother away this afternoon so he could talk to Olle. 

“To be perfectly honest,” Lucifer says, “I don't want to get his hopes up and I don't want to cause more conflict between Olle and Gabriel.”

“His strength,” Dean says, “was what the two of you were fighting about. Gabe was worried, because Cas' Grace is damaged, that he couldn't handle giving you the blood for the daggers.”

Dean is at least half right so Olle nods, turning up his bottle. 

“When we find a way to fix it,” Lucifer says, “I've made it clear to Gabriel that he has to tell Cas everything, has to help him remember. Until then,” he goes on, “I'm fine with telling Cas we are looking for a way to reverse his status as Fallen, but any more than that could send him searching for answers. With the state of Heaven right now, and the fact that they are none too fond of him, I don't want him to get hurt, or killed.”

“What do you mean?” Sam ask. 

“Searching Michael and Naomi's records,” Olle says, “could be a good way, the only way, to figure out what happened to him. At this point, though, him trying to get into Heaven would be suicide.”

“Gabriel, Balthazar, and I,” Lucifer admits, “are each strong enough, alone, to decimate the Host as it stands now, but Cas isn't.”

“What?” Dean wonders. 

“We are the only angels in Creation who are not damaged in some way,” Lucifer answers. “We, Gabriel and I especially, are stronger than all that remains of the Host.”

“I thought Olle said Cas was the only Fallen,” Sam says. 

Olle sits up then, his turn to speak, “They would all consider themselves Fallen. Cas, though, like the angels who ruled Hell, choose something they wanted over the good of Creation.”

“So,” Sam asks, confused and angry, “all an angel had to do was exhibit free-will and they were cast into Hell?”

Olle shakes his head, “Before he died, Legion told me Michael gave them all a choice. Those that, even after they were made to forget, choose whatever scenario he implanted in their heads about Lucifer, were cast out. Many, Legion said, rejoined the Host and, I'm sure, some of those who were with Michael at the beginning were cast into Hell.”

“How did Legion know?” Lucifer asks. 

“I prayed to Gabriel, to heal him, when I found him. He wouldn't let us heal him or save him, but Gabriel made him remember,” Olle answers. “What happened after,” he just shakes his head, turning up the last of his bottle. “Come on Sam,” he says taking the hunter's hand and starting to stand, “after all that hammer work today, the sauna's calling my name.” Sam smiles, downing the rest of his beer, and follows, still holding the big man's hand.


	32. Chapter 32

For the next week, Olle works in the smithy every day, sometimes Dean and, or Sam helps, but, more often than not, they are either helping Gabriel research binding spells or Lucifer research ways to fix a broken Castiel. Beth has left him alone during the day as well, choosing to drag all the others away individually, for a few hours of training, every day. At night, they all eat together before Olle falls, sore and exhausted, into bed beside Sam; the only consolation being he does not dream, even when the hunter gets up early for a run or comes to bed after him, eyes aching from research. On Wednesday, Cas and Lucifer spare an hour to give Olle the blood he needs to finish Sam and Dean's knives and, by Saturday, Olle is completely finished with the dragon sword and has both knife blades completed; only the handles left to finish. 

Kissing Sam hello, as he comes in from the garage, Olle lays both blades on the table for Sam and Dean's examination. The first thing Dean says, dropping across the table from Olle and his brother, is, “They're different.”

“They are,” Olle says as Beth hands him a beer and takes a seat beside him. “You're much more skilled with a knife than Sam is. I needed to take that into account. Not that he can't learn, but the time you spent in Purgatory means I seriously doubt he'll ever be as good as you.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks looking between his boyfriend and his brother. 

“You never told him?” Olle asks, looking at Dean. 

“He never asked, even after he was there,” Dean answers almost sad. 

Olle wonders, sometimes, at how much Sam seems to ignore, neglect, and underestimate his brother; very much like Michael always did Gabriel. He shakes his head, looking at Sam, and the hunter asks, “What?”

“Time moves faster in Purgatory than it does even in Hell, Sam,” Beth answers softly. 

He laughs, “No it doesn't.” 

Dean just shakes his head. “It takes a while to figure out,” he says not making eye contact, “because there is no distinguishable day and night.”

“How much faster?” Sam demands seriously, looking between the other three. He needs to know now, wondering how long he really abandoned his brother in that place. 

“A lot faster, Sam,” Dean admits, but refuses to say more. 

The hunter is quiet all through dinner, then, only nodding when Olle asks him to be available tomorrow so he can fit Dean's hand for a handle to the blade. 

When everyone is done, Dean looks at Gabriel and says, “Hey Gabe, can I get a lift back to the Bunker? I think I'd like to sleep in my own bed.”

When the angel nods, Dean heads for his room to pack his bag and Olle follows. Knocking on the door, he sticks his head in, “I'm sorry Dean,” he starts off. “I honestly didn't know Sam didn't know.”

“It's okay,” Dean answers, still stuffing clothes in his bag. “Just another thing I should have told him.”

“No,” he moves further into the room, “it wasn't. I've been trapped in Purgatory. There are things,” he shakes his head, “things I'll never be able to tell Sam about because he just wouldn't understand. I had no right to give him one of those things of yours; I'm sorry,” he sits on the ottoman in the corner, watching Dean, waiting.

“He'll be up here later,” Dean says, deflating on the edge of the bed to look at Olle, “accusing me of keeping secrets. I just didn't know how to tell him,” he trails off. “How do I tell him I spent over a thousand years hip deep in blood and death, fighting constantly for my life, my soul?” Dean wonders, looking tear filled eyes at Olle. 

“There is no possible way to describe it,” Olle says, “to someone who hasn't experienced it. As hard as we try, they'll just never understand.” Dean nods and, in the ensuing quiet, Olle tries to think of a way to lighten the mood. “You wanna talk to Beth? She'll empathize and you'll end up fucking; it may make you feel better.”

Dean laughs, “You whoring yourself out to me?”

Olle grins, “I'm willing to over look it this once if it wipes that look off your face.”

Dean laughs, sighing and rubbing his face with one hand, “Sammy and I promised never to dip our wick in the same wax if we could help it.”

Olle chuckles, “Semantics,” he says and Dean laughs, but shakes his head. “You want me to talk to him?” Olle asks seriously. 

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, “thanks man, but I got it.”

Olle passes his boyfriend outside the door as he makes his way to the huge shower in his bathroom. 

“Over a thousand years,” Sam says quietly, taking Olle's seat on the ottoman. “You should have told me, Dean.” He isn't angry with his brother so much as shocked and sick to his very core. “Why did you think you couldn't tell me?”

“Did Olle know you were standing outside the door?” Dean asks gruffly, willing to take a beating if he gets one good swing in, should Sam say he knew. 

He shakes his head, “I doubt it, or he never would have told you there were things he wouldn't tell me.”

Dean concedes the point with a shrug. “He's right, though, Sam. I can't explain it to you if you weren't there. It's in the past, can we not make it a thing? Please.”

“Yeah Dean, okay,” Sam says almost too easily. “I guess you're right. There has been so much between us since then. It's in the past, nothing either of us can do about it now.”

Dean is skeptical, but he reaches out to clap his brother on the back in thanks anyway, “Thanks Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam says standing, “the ritual. Wednesday, the full moon, that is when we're going to do it.”

“I still don't like this Sam,” Dean says shouldering his bag and following his brother into the hallway, “but you're not going to listen to me and Olle swears it is as safe as anyone could make it. If you're still determined to do it, then, fine, I'll be there.”

“Thanks Dean,” Sam says stopping on the second floor. “I guess I'll see you in the morning.”

“If you hurry, little brother,” Dean grins, turning to jog down the stairs, “he may still be in the shower.”

Sam blushes, but shakes his head and chuckles as he makes his way to the bedroom door. Damp, naked, and already in the bed, it turned out, was better, actually, than still in the shower, but Sam is not going to tell Dean about that.


	33. Chapter 33

Tuesday evening, their last day in Kansas City, Olle comes in from the forge early and finds Sam sitting with Lucifer in the living room library. He stands there, waiting for Sam to notice him or Lucifer to acknowledge his presence, while the devil teaches the hunter how to read Phoenician. Olle recognizes the tablet Lucifer is using and knows it contains a possibly helpful spell, but it calls for a sacrifice of power. Finally, he clears his throat and, when they both look up, says, “The spell you're looking for is on the other side, midway down, in the third column, but you'd have to summon, torture, and kill an angel.”

“Oh,” Lucifer says a little disappointed. “It goes in the last resort pile then,” he quips, sending the tablet to a table in the other room before reaching for the next piece of information. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks returning the kiss Olle leans down to give. “Do you need some help with something?”

“Nah, Sammy,” Olle says dropping in the chair beside him. “Actually, I'm finished.”

“Already?” he wonders, Olle told him Monday he would probably have to come back to the blades after they were finished with the memory ritual. 

Olle nods grabbing a book and, noticing the title, puts it aside to grab another. “Yeah, all done. You can't have it yet, though.” He grins, “I'm saving them for Christmas.”

There is a long pause before Sam says, “Oh,” like he had totally forgotten the holiday existed or, at least, that he would now be expected to participate in the ritual of gift giving because he has a boyfriend. 

Olle laughs, “Don't worry Sam, I've just got to put a few more coats of wax on the handle.” He keeps laughing, “You should have seen your face, though.” He reaches over and kisses him fast and hard, “We can totally ignore Christmas, that's fine,” he says pulling back just enough to make eye contact before he leans in again.

“See,” the hunter says nervously, when Olle settles back in his seat, “I'm not sure where to go with this. Do I take you at your word or not?” He sighs, leaning back in the chair and running his hands through his hair, “It's been too fucking long since I've done this.”

“Hey,” Olle says seriously, “if you want to do Christmas, we can do Christmas. I meant what I said, though, it's only an important holiday if you say so. I'm old,” he chuckles, “remember. I'd been around a fucking long ass time before Christmas was ever a thing. I made you the knife because you needed it and I wanted you to have something to protect yourself with. I can't even consider it a gift from me, you should thank Cas, though.”

Sam nods, relaxing, “Dean loves Christmas, but it's not my thing.”

“Yeah,” Olle shrugs, “he probably remembers at least the last one he had with your Mom. You never got that. He keeps trying to give you something you never had.”

Sam is quiet as Olle goes back to looking through books and talking with Lucifer, he had never considered Christmas from Dean's perspective; not since the year he went to Hell. “What do you think about Christmas?” he asks the table then, noticing Balthazar, Cas, and Linda had joined them.

“We always did a lot for Christmas,” Linda says. “Tree, cookies, lights on the house. When Kevin was little, before his father died, it was huge,” she is sad when she talks about it even though it makes her smile. “After Kevin became a prophet,” she shakes her head, “it kinda lost its meaning; and now,” she trails off, her son is still dead; it doesn't actually matter that he is still around. 

Olle reaches out and hugs her, “I'm sorry Linda. Soon.”

She hugs him back and kisses his face like a mother, “You're doing your best, Olle. I trust you.” He wants to warn her not to, but Balthazar cuts him off.

“Angels don't really think anything about Christmas,” Balthazar says then. 

“I missed all that,” Lucifer answers. “I liked learning about it in the books I read. The Christian mythology, though,” he chuckles, “despite their appropriation of the holiday; it's all pagan ritual; even Santa.”

“It is,” Olle says. “When Mikhail was little, it's different in Finland, but it was an important time for family with my parents. They were older when they adopted me but they went all out every year; even when Mom moved to the States to teach and Dad was in Afghanistan, we celebrated. And it was my birth mother's favorite holiday. There was a tree, sometimes more than one, and gifts and family. I had eight aunts and uncles, twelve cousins, and two younger brothers. Then my cousins had kids and, by the time I killed myself, my mother's parents had 14 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren. There was always a party on Christmas Eve. It's about family.”

“Jimmy and his wife,” Cas says thoughtfully, “I tried never to invade his mind, but that first Christmas he missed,” the angel shrugs, “It was hard on him.”

“Maybe,” Sam says hesitant, “we can do something about it this year. It might be the last Christmas anyone ever gets.”

“I'm not celebrating,” Olle says sternly, “if that's why you want to. Hell no! Find another reason, first.”

“He's right Sam,” Lucifer says. “Thinking like that will add a pallor to the whole affair. It'll be our first Christmas, after all,” he gestures from himself to his brothers, who nod in agreement.

The hunter laughs, “Okay, let me think about it and we'll talk about it this weekend.” Everyone nods agreement and the angels go back to researching, but Linda drags Olle and Sam away to the kitchen for lunch. 

That night, Beth and Olle pack before everyone goes to the Bunker for dinner. Dean was thrilled to be able to make burgers, something Linda, Olle, and Beth, who shared the cooking, had avoided making while they were staying in Kansas City. 

During dinner, Dean wonders aloud what Sam had been mulling over for days, “Where is everyone going to sleep?” He makes it a casual question, but he looks between Olle and Sam before glancing over at Beth and Balthazar. 

Beth laughs, “There are six other suites like Olle's room. I'll just have Baz help me snap up a bed and anything else I need.”

The angel nods, “Linda can find her own room and I'll do the same for her.”

She interrupts them then, “I thought, if it's okay,” she says turning to Kevin who, though he can't eat, sits with them every time they all have a meal together, “I'd stay in Kevin's room.” Kevin nods, looking over at Olle; asking, without words, how much longer he has to wait to need his room back.

Olle thinks for a few moments, “I'm getting a feeling it will be a good idea to furnish the rest of the guest rooms and, maybe, start to look at organizing the barracks. Kevin's room is furnished, it should be okay to stay there until we can get you your own room. It shouldn't be very long, six months, maybe sooner.” Linda and Kevin share a look and both seem to relax before the conversation turns to more mundane things.


	34. Chapter 34

After dinner, everyone breaks apart like always, Olle and Sam cleaning up from Dean's dinner before they make their way into the library. Sam has been trying to get Olle to teach him how to read ancient languages. He wants one of the angels to teach him instantly, but Lucifer is ignorant of how and Gabriel is the only one strong enough but Sam hasn't seen him in days. 

Dean comes up the steps then, wanting to know, “Can we talk about what's going to happen tomorrow? I'd like to go over everything, just to make sure there are no surprises.”

“Sure Dean,” Sam says. “I'll get Gabe and Luce,” he pulls out his phone and Olle is about to tell him he can just pray when he notices something in Dean's hand.

“Dean,” Olle says curiously, with the beginnings of anger in his voice, “where did you get that?” he asks gesturing to the bottle of whiskey the hunter was carrying. 

“Found a case of it in the pantry,” the hunter says dropping at the table, handing out glasses before he starts to pour. 

“GABE!” the doctor screams, cutting off Sam's need to call the angel, making everyone jump. 

“Yeah?” the angel asks, appearing at the head of the table.

“Did you,” he points at the bottle, “did you rob me, you fucker?”

The archangel smiles, all Trickster, and says, “It was just sitting there at the back of the pantry, over a hundred bottles of it. You can spare a few, Olle,” he says still grinning.

“Oh?” The man says standing to glare more effectively at the angel, “You put the rest back! Now, Gabe, I mean it!”

“What,” Sam asks shocked by Olle's anger, “is so important about whiskey?”

“The fact that you have so much of it is ridiculous,” Gabriel says, mirth dripping from his voice. “It's impossible to fucking find anymore because you bought it all! You did buy it, right?” Gabriel snickers. 

No one has actually tasted of it yet, but Olle just glares at Gabriel. “It's Pappy van Winkle; it's aged 23 years. It's over $3,000 a bottle. And, yes, I bought it.”

Dean blanches at that and looks down into his half-full glass. “Whiskey is whiskey, man,” Dean laughs. “Why shell out so much?” 

“Let it breathe, close your eyes and smell of it, then take a small drink and wash it through your mouth, slowly,” Olle says and watches both hunters do just that. 

Dean's eyes get huge and he sighs after he swallows. “It's awesome, but come on?” he glares up at Olle.

Olle glares at Gabriel again, “I will not have beyond top shelf whiskey insulted by this rot gut drinking lush! Put. It. Back. Gabriel.” Olle's use of his full name makes the angel smirk even more; the immortal wants to absolutely throttle the angel.

“Hey,” Dean says affronted, but the two beings ignore him; staring each other down.

The archangel snaps. “Fine! Happy now?”

“Not even a little,” Olle says flopping back down to pick up his own drink, hand falling on Sam's thigh. 

The angel takes a seat at the head of the table, Lucifer on his right and Balthazar on his left, both angels following their brother at the sound of Olle's bellow. He snaps and the bottle gets visibly more empty while he and his brothers each have four fingers in a glass. Olle continues to glare at him until Sam rubs his hand over Olle's on his thigh and laces their fingers together. Olle looks at the hunter, equal parts contrition and affection. Gabriel takes a large drink from his glass, watching them, and Lucifer hooks his foot around his brother's under the table; they lock eyes for a minute before Dean clears his throat. 

“I need to know what's going to happen tomorrow. How, exactly,” he emphasizes, “you're going to do whatever it is you're planning.” 

“It's a ritual,” Gabriel begins, calling up his notepad with a thought and handing it to Dean. 

“It's in Enochian,” the hunter says, but he still flips through the pages. 

“I didn't know you could read Enochian,” Sam says; even the younger hunter has trouble with non-Latin-based languages. 

Dean just shrugs, and Gabriel continues, “It's fairy simple, really, we put Luce and Sammy in a ring of Holy Fire.”

“Why?” Dean cuts in, looking up from the notepad. 

“It is to contain the risen energy,” the younger archangel says. “Lucifer will have to use his Grace to invade Sam's mind and, essentially, extract his memories. The Holy Fire is like a wall, it keeps the power in and keeps anything outside the circle from being able to feel the expense of Grace.”

“You're afraid the ritual will attract unwanted attention?” Dean asks. 

Gabriel nods, “It could. Anything with any kind of supernatural link would be able to sense something happening, otherwise. That's why we wanted to do this here, the Bunker's wards give us added protection.”

“And?” Dean asks, expectantly.

“They are,” Olle starts then, “both opening their minds to each other. The key, here, is, Lucifer already knows what's in Sam's head and he doesn't want Sam to know what's in his head. So, he knows where he needs to go looking for his memories, and we just have to keep Sam out of that part of his own mind.”

“You're telling me this is all up to Lucifer's ability to not scramble my brother's brains?” Dean asks angrily, shoving the ritual notes down the table and picking up his drink. 

Olle takes a slow sip from his own glass and turns to Dean, shoving the notebook back at him, “Read the last page.”

Dean grabs the notebook and flips to the last page of the ritual. “Who's the controller?” he looks between the angels, the immortal, and his brother. 

“The whole thing is, essentially, a psychology exercise for both of them. It's hypnosis used to attempt to recall forgotten memories,” Gabriel answers. “I'll be in there with them. We get Sam under and find Lucifer's memories, but, instead of him looking, Sam let's Lucifer into his mind so he can recall his own memories. Sam stays outside the door the whole time.”

“But Lucifer isn't the only one to ever possess Sam,” Dean says. “What if Lucifer gets in there and it's Meg or Gadreel or even Crowley's memories he's seeing?”

The devil shakes his head, “That shouldn't be a problem. All of Sam's memories are contained in a single space and all of the other memories will be separate. We've already taken into account I'll have to slog through other memories. But, I don't need to see all of them so I can get past them much faster than a human mind could process. What I'm looking for will be the absolute oldest memories in Sam's mind because, like it or not, memory is recorded linearly.” He chuckles then, “Just because we exist outside linear time doesn't mean our memories are not stored linearly as we experience them.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks curiously, then, cutting into the conversation.

“When I read the prophet's books,” Lucifer says, “I wondered at why Michael didn't make more of a effort to speed up or control what was going to happen after he killed Anna in 1978. But, then I realized, Michael would have never thought about Earth, or listened to any of the probably millions of prayers that were directed at him daily. The Michael who came to kill Anna wasn't 1978 Michael, but 2010 Michael who was, undoubtedly, monitoring your every move and, so, knew where you were in time and traveled with you to ensure nothing happened to either of you.”

“But,” Sam wonders, “what about the warding on our ribs?”

Both archangels laugh. “Cas wasn't strong enough to hide you from archangels,” Lucifer says. “It made you difficult to find in the beginning, but, from the moment I saw you in Carthage, I knew your every move.”

“How, though,” Dean tries to reason out, “did Michael know where we were?”

“Raphael,” Gabriel answers. “When he came for Cas and realized the three of you were not only aware of, but being occasionally helped by, Chuck, he started sticking to him like glue.” The angel shakes his head, “If Dad hadn't stopped me, I'd've killed him when he killed Cas.”

Olle laughs at that, but Sam just says, “Uh, what?”

Olle squeezes Sam's hand, “The Messenger of God protects all messengers of God,” he tells his boyfriend. “Gabriel would have been the one to reign down on Lilith, if she hadn't fled, the day you met Chuck.”

“I was trying not to blow my cover, especially since there was no way I could have killed her,” the angel says with a grin. “I got blown to fucking Oz when I tried to stop Raph; literally. Hardest fucking place to get back from without a damn key," Gabriel shakes his head with a laugh.

“What about Kevin,” Dean asks. 

“I was dead Dean,” Gabriel says turning up his drink. “If I wasn't,” he says quietly, steel and fire in his voice, “none of what happened after would have happened. I'd've never let you throw yourself in there with them,” Gabriel says turning to Sam. “That's not what I had in mind, Sammy.”

Sam just nods, understanding. “I guess you're glad it happened, though, huh?” he wonders glancing over at Lucifer.

Both archangel's shake their heads. “Not like this Sam,” Lucifer answers. “Never like this.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Do you think he meant that?” Sam asks Olle as they head down the corridor later. “Do you think he would have rather stayed locked in the Cage forever, insane?”

“If it meant you, here, safe,” Olle says wrapping his arm around Sam's waist as they walk, “yes. If he were sane, he would have found a way to kill himself and lock Cain, Lilith, and the horseman rings in the Cage so Michael could never get to them. If we knew, when we put him in there, the potential of what we were doing, Gabe and I would have done it for him.”

Outside Sam's room, Olle stops. “So,” he says, nervous, “am I kissing you good night or am I coming in for coffee?” Both men chuckle at that but Olle is nervous, they have been together every night for the past two and a half weeks. Now that they are back at the Bunker, the rules are a little bit different; they each have their own room. 

Sam thinks for a few moments before he answers. He loves sleeping with Olle, has never quite forgotten how wonderful it is to sleep with someone. Now, though, being back at the Bunker, the novelty is starting to ware. Are they moving too fast? He does not want to spiral into another bout of second guessing himself; like he did before they started having sex. He doesn't see anything wrong with them continuing to sleep together, but will he look back and wish he gave himself space to think and figure out what he was feeling? They already live together and work together, sleeping together means never having any space away from each other. How will Olle take it, though, Sam wonders. “Do you want to just kiss me goodnight?” Sam asks finally, trying to feel Olle out. 

“I always want to kiss you.” Olle leans in and does just that, slowly, before pulling away to keep talking, “I want you to be comfortable, too. I know it was a novelty, being away from the Bunker and, now that we're back, it's different; more real in a way. Do you need some thinking space?” Olle wants Sam to have all the time he needs and, if that means he only gets a couple hours sleep every three or four days, so be it. He won't use his nightmares as an excuse for Sam to sleep with him.

“How about,” Sam says leaning in to give Olle another slow, hungry kiss, “I think about needing space to think and, until then, you come in anyway.” Sam smiles and pulls Olle through the door, kissing him as they walk over to the bed. 

When Olle's calves hit the bed, he breaks their kiss and lets Sam pull his shirt off as he sits down. Chuckling, he pulls Sam into his lap on the foot of the bed. He is suddenly extremely grateful for their lack of hunting recently, because Sam is only wearing the one layer, a dark blue flannel that snaps, and it looks amazing hanging open off his broad shoulders, billowing around his narrow waist. “I really just want to eat you alive,” Olle pants, running his hand through Sam's hair, eyes taking the slow route across the hunter's skin before he pulls Sam back down, onto his mouth; devouring him with slow pressure and lazy tongue. 

Sam just can't seem to get enough of what is always a slow build between the two of them. The immortal always knows exactly what to do to make his mind white out. He loves every second of it, and how it feels at once brand new and well worn. The sweat slick slide of muscled skin together and the feel of all that unassuming strength as Olle takes him apart each time they are together; it feels like what he has waited his whole life for. The way Olle knows him, better than anyone else he has ever been with, lets Sam feel free to ask for, and demand, exactly what he wants both in bed and out; the bigger man has yet to disappoint. 

Pushing Olle down into the mattress, Sam starts a trail of kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He loves the muscled shape of Olle's shoulders and the well defined line of his collar bones coming together to form that delicious dip where Sam's tongue seems to fit perfectly; making Olle moan every time he focuses his attention there. As Sam works his way down Olle's body, the big man starts to pull himself up the bed and is comfortably propped against the headboard at the same time Sam reaches for his belt. 

It took the hunter no time to divest them both of the remainder of their clothes before reaching into the nightstand drawer to throw a bottle of lube at Olle, “What's this for?” the immortal asks with a grin, hoping Sam will finally want to fuck him. He is all for fucking the hunter until they both forget their name, but has yet to feel the other man inside of him and it is something he desperately wants. Every time he has mentioned the possibility, though, Sam has changed the subject by either sucking him off or begging, desperately, to be fucked. Why, Olle isn't sure, but he is more than willing to wait. 

“I want to ride you,” Sam says dropping down across Olle's thighs and reaching for the lube. 

Olle smiles, but holds the tube out of Sam's reach and, pulling him into a searing kiss, asks, “Turn around for me gorgeous?” Olle has never actually had the opportunity to eat Sam out before and is almost giddy with excitement as the hunter slowly does as he is told. Olle re-positions himself in his knees and pulls Sam onto all fours. Kneading both cheeks of Sam's ass, Olle leans forward enough to blow a little warm air across Sam's skin. “Is this okay Sammy?” Olle's voice is husky and deep with arousal and the hunter just nods his head, canting his hips back. Olle smiles and flattens his tongue against Sam's ass in long, smooth swipes. 

The undeniable 'Sam' taste coupled with the hunter's ever more insistent push into Olle's firm grip on his ass lets the immortal know he is doing a more than adequate job. As he sucks kisses into and laves his tongue over Sam's tight pink pucker, the hunter gasps and groans, begging for more. Olle points his tongue for a more focused teasing around Sam's hole, and the hunter lets out a stuttering groan, dropping to his forearms on the bed, pressing back even further as Olle moves to finally slide his spit slick finger inside Sam's relaxed opening. Olle continues to work his tongue in and around Sam's hole, long flat licks, pointed kitten licks, and kneading pressure on his perineum, drunk on the taste of Sam; every increasingly incoherent noise he makes pushes Olle higher and higher. 

Sam is completely lost to the pleasure as Olle works three fingers against his prostate while his face is still buried in Sam's ass. Sam's hands scrabble with the bedding, his face twisting against the sheets until he finally begs, desperately, “Please.” 

Olle pulls away, reluctantly, while still grinding against Sam's prostate, to asks, “Please what, Sammy?” in a hoarse, lust addled purr. 

“Need to cum,” Sam pants, body covered in sweat and hair plastered to his face. 

Olle chuckles, happily, “So cum, baby, I'm not stopping you,” before he goes back to work and Sam lets out a desperate moan pushing back onto Olle's expert tongue as he spreads him open and licks as deep inside of him as he can. After a few more minutes, with a choked off, stuttering groan that sounds almost painful, Sam cums, untouched, on the blanket beneath him as Olle continues to work him through it. 

When Sam collapses fully onto the bed, his legs no longer able to hold him, Olle stretches out over him like a blanket, licking the sweat-salty taste of him from along his spinal column, and purrs in his ear, moving his wet hair away from his face, “That was the most beautiful fucking thing I've seen in an age, Sam.”

Sam wiggles around, boneless, until he is on his back and pulls Olle down into a filthy kiss before he asks, “What about you?” He is a little cum drunk, and Olle made him forget his own name, but he can feel the long thick length of the immortal against his thigh and he wants to make sure Olle feels as amazing as he does right now. 

Olle pulls away to sit between Sam's legs and stroke himself slowly while he takes in the sight laid out in front of him. A shiver runs through him just looking at Sam, his eyes are blow and half glazed in pleasure, hair wet and sticking to his face and neck while his body is still flushed with arousal and damp with sweat; the hunter looks thoroughly fucked out and gorgeous. Olle groans and reaches for the long forgotten tube of lube, “Just, stay right there for me Sammy. Fuck,” he pants as the lube smooths the ride and allows him to quicken his pace. “You are so beautiful, Sam. Cumming like that,” he pants hoarsely, “untouched, fucked open on my tongue, Jesus Sammy! So goddamn sexy!” With a groan, Olle cums, soaking his hand and making a mess of Sam's stomach before he slumps over. Chuckling, Olle licks his way up Sam's body and into his welcome mouth, before making the trip over to the sink for a warm cloth while Sam tries to turn himself around in the bed without actually moving. When they are as clean as the cloth allows, and have moved the now filthy blanket off the bed, they curl together and drift off to sleep quickly.


	36. Chapter 36

A few minutes before Olle's alarm is set to go off the next morning, knocking jerks him awake and, given the size of the bed, he rolls out of Sam's arms and half into the floor. Laughing, Olle gets up to pull open the door, “What?” he asks still half asleep and totally at ease with his nudity. 

Beth takes a lazy path up his body, equal measure envious and appreciative, before she says, “I have coffee,” holding up two large travel mugs. “You've got about an hour and a half. Everything is already set up.” With a nod of thanks, Olle takes both mugs and shuts the door. Beth grins, heading back toward the infirmary. 

Finding his mug, Olle takes a long drink as he heads back over to the bed. Perching on the edge, he puts both cups on the nightstand before reaching out to smooth one hand along Sam's bare skin. Sleep warm and soft over firm muscle, Olle trails his hand along old scars and comes to rest on Sam's hip; with a gentle squeeze, Olle eases him awake, “Sammy, Babe, Beth brought coffee. You ready to go take a shower?”

Sam stretches, leaning into Olle's touch, as he talks through a yawn, “Coffee, definitely. Shower,” he rolls over to grab his mug and takes a long drink, “after coffee,” he sighs. Olle smiles, reaching for his own drink, but diverting to turn off his alarm. 

**

Sam looks around the infirmary, all the beds and most of the medical equipment have been pushed to the edges of the room and, in the center of the room is a single exam table. The floor has been covered in wax pencil sigils forming a containment circle and, “What is that?” Sam wonders looking at the raised circle around the outer edge of the ritual space.

“It's PVC that's been cut in half, fitted together, and formed into a circle,” Beth says from her seat across the room next to Dean. “It's for the Holy Oil.” 

“Who's idea was that?” Olle wants to know, giving the ritual space a once over, “It's pretty awesome.”

Beth nods, “Dean helped me with it last night. The cast iron boats we made for things like this are still in Istanbul.”

“We need to clean out all those other storage caches,” Olle says sitting down beside her. “There won't be enough space at the house, but a lot of it can be cataloged and stored here.”

Beth yawns, “I'll get right on that.” Standing, she hugs Olle to her, dropping a quick kiss to the top of his head, where it rests on her chest, before yawning again, “I'm going to bed.” Reaching over to run her hands through Sam's still damp hair and plant a kiss on his forehead, she tells him, “Remember kid, he'd never hurt you on purpose and Gabe is fantastic at shit like this; it's safe as houses.”

Gabriel and Lucifer come in as Beth is going out, Balthazar automatically turning to leave with her. The youngest archangel is carrying Olle's plastic container of Holy Oil. “Okay guys,” Gabriel says as he starts to fill their makeshift fire ring with Holy Oil, “ten minute warning.”

Sam goes to stand, but not before Olle pulls him in for a quick kiss. Dean stands and follows his brother to the edge of the circle. They stand in awkward, Winchester silence for a few moments before Dean runs a hand through his hair and finally says, “Sammy, man, it is beyond fucked up, but I really think I trust them. Just, do what Gabriel tell you to and this'll be fine.”

With a smile and a nod, Sam hugs his brother. Pulling away, he looks at him, “Yeah Dean. This is gonna work. Don't worry, okay.”

“Okay kid,” Gabriel says turning to Sam, “just, hold still,” with a snap, Sam is now laying down on the exam table. 

“Whoa,” Sam says, startled, “why'd you do that?”

Lucifer answers, appearing in the bar stool positioned at the head of the table, “It's so you don't smudge the sigils, Sam.” Glaring at his brother for a moment he goes on, “Gabe should have warned you.”

The Trickster-archangel grins, “Where's the fun in that? Now,” he says turning completely serious, “I need you both to relax. Luce,” Gabriel says stepping over the Holy Oil, his feet doing no damage to the spell work on the floor, “just focus on Sam, run through all of his memories, remember that you don't need them. Think back, back, back all the way to the beginning. Think back to how it was before we went to war. Think back to how it was when Dad was still with us. Think back to how it was when Michael and you were inseparable. All the way back. Those memories are what you're looking for.” Lucifer's eyes are closed and his face is relaxed and he is nodding along as his brother speaks. “Just relax,” Gabriel goes on in a soft, encouraging voice, “go all the way back.” 

With a thought, there is a medical tray in front of him, and Gabriel starts to mix herbs while he continues to speak. “Sam, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice and I want you to relax.” As Gabriel continues to mix herbs and watch the clock for the proper time, he talks Sam through progressive relaxation. Once the hunter is thoroughly relaxed, he helps him clear his mind. “Now Sam,” Gabriel says as he walks around the circle and pours the herbal mixture over the Holy Oil, “you're alone in an empty room. It is a peaceful place, the temperature is comfortable and it is quiet. The light is soft and you are totally relaxed. In front of you are two doors, do you see them?” When Sam nods, Gabriel continues, “Behind each door are the memories you have stored away. Behind one door are all of your memories. Behind the other, all the memories you have that aren't yours. Now, describe it for me, Sammy. Where are you and what do the doors look like?”

“It looks like just another room in the Bunker, but the doors are odd,” his face scrunches up. “One of them is just like any door here. The other, though, is odd.”

“You're totally relaxed and everything is comfortable. Just relax and tell me why the door is odd,” Gabriel says, finally dropping a match into the Holy Oil at the exact moment the Moon is full. 

“It's just, it's not my door,” Sam says. “It's a big, flat, white door. It doesn't belong here.”

“Okay,” Gabriel smiles and laughs a little, “okay, Sam, that's good. That means that door is where you've put away all the memories that don't belong to you.” The archangel goes over to his brother, now, and puts a hand in the center of his back, “Okay big brother, you ready?” When Lucifer nods, Gabriel continues, “Now Sam, Lucifer is going to join you there, where you're so relaxed and everything is comfortable, he is going to join you in the room.” Sam starts to tense up, then, and Gabriel is quick to reassure him, “Sam, you're relaxed and comfortable. Everything is fine. Just relax. Just think about how comfortable you are. Lucifer is right here with me, I'm not letting him go. You're just going to feel his Grace, Sam, not him, just his Grace and you're going to relax. There are chairs, in your comfortable room, and you can sit down, relax, be comfortable. Lucifer is right here, with me, I've got my hand on him. We are all relaxed and comfortable. Now that we are all relaxed and comfortable, you're going to see Lucifer sitting in a chair, right beside you. Just remember, Sam, I'm right with you. Nothing is dangerous and no one is going to hurt you. You're relaxed and comfortable.” Sam relaxes, nodding, and Gabriel gestures for Lucifer to continue. With a nod of his own, the devil reaches out and puts his hand on Sam's head and the entire circle swells with Grace; the Holy Fire flares up high around them all. 

**

Lucifer looks around, he is sitting in a very comfortable, huge, leather winged backed chair. He can see the two doors of Sam's memory in front of him. Getting up, he sees Sam sitting beside him, in another exact chair. “Hey Sam,” Lucifer says softly. 

“Hey,” the hunter returns, not getting up. He looks almost asleep. “Are you ready?”

Lucifer nods, “As ready as I'll ever be. Are you okay?”

Sam smiles, “I'm good. Relaxed. Comfortable. I'm just supposed to wait here, right?”

“That's the idea,” the archangel says. “I don't know how long this will take.”

“That's okay,” Sam says stretching in his chair, “Gabe told me it was okay if I fell asleep once you were in here. I'll just take a nap or something. You go ahead. If you need anything, I'll be right here.”

With a distracted nod, Lucifer opens the door and disappears inside.


	37. Chapter 37

Lucifer had no idea what he was expecting when he got into the jumbled mix of different memories, but a well organized library, reminiscent of the massive expanse of the Bunker's main's library, was not it. To his left, as he came into the door, Lucifer notices an old fashioned card catalog of sorts and turns to investigate. After a few minutes of searching, he sees an abstract kind of order. The memories are stored, as he told them, linearly, but they are all jumbled together; Meg and Gadreel mixed up in his own memories. Searching linearly, he moves further and further back, seeking the very beginning. Quickly moving past Meg's memories, the demon being far, far younger than either of the angels, Lucifer begins to search between Gadreel's memories and his own. Each card in the catalog giving him a snap shot of the memory. The time the other angel spent locked away, he sees, was more intense and, possibly, more damaging than all his time spent in the Cage. If it weren't for the madness of the Mark, he would say the other angel suffered worse than he ever could have. When he begins to see Gadreel's memories of the Garden, he slows; his memories overlapping the other angels and he relives, in horror, his corruption of Lilith and courting of Abel after conniving his way past his trusting, naive younger brother. 

Lucifer has to stop for a moment, to collect himself, and he moves away from the catalog. He wanders through the stacks, hoping he can calm himself down enough to continue his search. The horror and disgust he feels toward himself for all he had done is nearly overwhelming. He thinks, for a moment, of returning to Sam's soothing head space, but slumps against a shelf and closes his eyes, breathing calming breaths he does not need to slow the beating of a heart he should not even have. He chuckles at the absurdity of the situation before he stumbles back to the catalog and keeps looking. Only then does it occur to him, none of Crowley's memories are here. He laughs to himself, Legion always was thorough; no way he would just leave all his memories here for Sam to accidentally stumble across. 

Here! Near the bottom of the last cabinet of drawers, Lucifer finds what he is looking for. He pulls the single card from the drawer, the words, Father & Darkness, displayed in the same typeface of all the other cards, but, somehow, more impressive. Taking the card, he begins to search the stacks for the proper shelf, not knowing what he will find, but eager to remember nonetheless. 

Disappearing into the furthest reaches of the stacks, Lucifer does not see the door opening or notice Sam's tall frame fill the void. 

**

Sam is bored. He feels like he has been here for days, though he knows, rationally, it has only been a few minutes. He told Lucifer he was going to try to take a nap, but he is far too curious about what is on the other side of that door; even if he knows he should not be. He gets up from his comfortable chair and starts to pace, restlessly, despite Gabriel's continued commands to relax. Finally decided, he stops in front of the white door and, with a deep breath, opens it and stalks through. 

Sam is wholly unprepared for the well organized library that greets him. He looks around in fascination, reminded, however much it looks like the Bunker, of the never ending storage facility at the end of Raiders. The first fantastical thing to catch his eye is the shelf that seems to appear out of nowhere, directly in front of him, marked clearly with books all bearing Lucifer's name. Sam goes over and, unable to help himself, plucks a book from the top of the shelf and opens it. He is overtaken with the strange sensation of falling before he looks around and finds himself staring down the table at his own face while Olle and Gabriel square off. He suddenly realizes it is Lucifer's memory of their argument from last night. When Lucifer's foot wraps around his brother's beneath the table, Sam hears the archangel speak to his brother, “You gotta stop picking fights Gabe, it just makes it harder on both of you.” 

Gabriel's response echos in Sam's head now, “All of time, since Adam came up with the concept, and he's never once looked at me like that.” 

“Hey little brother,” Lucifer's voice soothes, “it's gonna be alright. You're dead wrong, but it's still gonna be alright.” Slamming the book, he starts to looks through the front most shelves, needing to know what Lucifer was talking about. 

Sam goes over to the card catalog and, using the reference boxes on the top, searches for Olle's name. Pulling the card, with a dozen other aliases on it, he turns to find the room changed. While the stacks are still there, a podium with a single white book has appeared in the front of the room. Going over, Sam sees Olle's name on the front of the book and, opening it to the first page, feels the same falling sensation, before he is surrounded by nothingness. 

He quickly realizes it isn't nothingness, but everything; he is Falling, Lucifer is Falling, cast out of Heaven by Michael and he feels the angel's devastation and his rage and, burning through all of it, what must be the Mark. Sam recognizes that feeling now, separate from Lucifer's Grace, the thing that made the devil burn cold; Amara. He explodes into a mountain, Sam seeing everything from the angel's perspective and watching as the energy he gives off turns the mountain into a fiery volcano, spewing molten rock infected with Grace. Seeing the still undiluted true form of Gabriel, Castiel, Legion, and Balthazar waiting on him at the base of the volcano, he has a spark of hope, that they will help him, but that thing, that human, he sees with Gabriel looks at him unafraid and defiant. Sam shakes his head, pushing further into the future like fast forwarding a video. He stops, then, to watch Olle, looking much as he does now, lead an army of demons against Gabriel and his troops; the Mark of Cain burning bright on his arm. He is engaged, then, in fighting Castiel while Olle does battle with Gabriel before, suddenly, they all turn on him and, again, he is falling, screaming, and Sam fast forwards again; remembering all to well, on his own, the sensation of falling into the Cage. 

Lucifer's next memories of Olle are the devastated immortal rocking Gabriel's dead body on that filthy ballroom floor as he keens, crying so hard Sam is surprised he can breathe. “How could you?” Olle rages in grief at the angel without letting go of his brother's body. “As lost as you are, how could you? He loved you!” Sam feels everything in Lucifer, even the effect of the Mark, become overwhelmed with grief at the sight of what he has done and he drops to his knees across from Olle, Gabriel between them. As he begs and cries, laid over his brother's body where it is cradled in Olle's arms, Sam too is overcome. All too quickly, though, the cold hand of the Mark pollutes even the devil's grief and Sam refuses to watch what he already knows was done to Olle.

Fast forwarding again, Sam stops to feel Olle cradling the archangel while he is in Hell, free of the Mark and the Cage for good. He watches Olle and Gabriel flirt at Linda's and see's the older archangel notice when his brother is gone during the night while Olle is supposed to be in Chicago. Sam is quickly becoming more interested in Lucifer's watching his brother and the immortal than he is anything else he is seeing. When he gets to Lucifer's memories of the time the three of them spent together, he can tell the archangel is already convinced his brother is in-love with Olle. When Sam feels Lucifer watch Olle laughing and smiling and joking with Gabriel, pulling him into an embarrassed kiss, he pulls totally out of the archangel's memories. Shaking his head, he takes a few steps back and looks around, feeling guilty and intrusive. 

Lucifer isn't anywhere to be seen, yet, though, so Sam dives back into the book. He watches Olle, frantic, now, trying to save Cas from Metatron's curse. Sam moves forwards, again, and Lucifer is with them in Philadelphia, talking to Olle and fighting dragons and helping them clean up the church Olle nearly destroyed. Moving forward again, he stops when he sees the familiar, burnt out ruins of the monastery where he set Lucifer free from the Cage. He backs up some and watches the three men argue in the gym at the Bunker before going ahead to watch Gabriel fling Kali in Olle's face before disappearing and he flinches along with Lucifer at the fit Olle seems ready to throw. He is moved by the man's immediate calm, though, to help Lucifer. The next bit of memory seems sad and he watches Lucifer appear in a dark room to find Gabriel inconsolable. 

Sometime later, Olle comes in. “Luce,” the immortal nods quietly.

“Olle,” Lucifer says quietly. “Can you tell me what happened? He hasn't been able to form a whole sentence and I've been sitting here letting him sleep so long I can't feel my legs.” Sam feels the angel smile fondly, carding a hand through his brother's hair. Olle doesn't talk, just pulls up his shirt and down the left side of his pants and Sam sees two blazing, hand-shaped burns on Olle's skin. Lucifer's mind starts to race and he is both furious at and devastated for his brother. Sam is shocked, and devastated on his own; he had noticed the scars, but thought they were much, much older than a few weeks. 

“He said he didn't mean to, Luce,” Olle says sliding down the wall. “So, I told him he couldn't expect me to stay and, when I got out of the shower, he was gone.”

“He loves you,” Lucifer says. “You know he does. But, I'm learning, that isn't always enough; especially when you're afraid. And my little brother,” he says sadly, hand in Gabriel's hair again, “has always been afraid.”

Olle nods, tears in his eyes, “He is and he doesn't feel worthy of anything but sacrifice.”

“We really are like the Winchesters,” Lucifer realizes after all his observation, “aren't we?”

“He's Dean to the core,” Olle smiles.

Sam sees the love and the loss there; realizes he sees it every time the two look at one another, and he pulls away, slamming the book before he can hear the rest of their conversation. He starts to pace, hurt and angry, as he thinks about Olle. He wants to be with him, has the awful thought, suddenly, that he is already more than half in-love with him, and has no idea what he is going to do when Lucifer is finished and Gabriel wakes them both up. Sam continues to pace, trying to calm down and relax. He eventually gives up on doing either and storms back into Gabriel's fabricated waiting room and sprawls out in one of the admittedly comfortable chairs.

After a few minutes of the younger archangel's once again audible voice calming him down, Sam eventually gives in to the suggested comfort and relaxation by nodding off in his chair.


	38. Chapter 38

Lucifer finally finds what he is looking for, after what has to be hours of searching; a thick black book on the very furthest bookcase. Pulling it out, he goes over to slide down the brick wall, into the floor, where the book falls open across his lap. He reads the table of contents, and turns to chapter four. When the falling sensation overtakes him, he panics for a moment; the recall he experienced during his search was nothing like this. He finds himself alone with Michael in the barren expanse of new Creation. 

“Come on little brother,” Michael's voice seems to echo all around him, “why are you doing this to me?” he asks sadly. “Why are you helping Dad do this to me? I just want to be with her, I just want to love you both! Why shouldn't she be allowed the chance to take what she wants?” The oldest archangel's voice turns bitter and angry at the end. 

Lucifer remembers, really remembers, what is going on and knows what he is about to say, “Why did you bring me here? We need to help Gabriel, we need to rally the Leviathan! What if something happens to him?” His voice sounds desperate, he can feel the anxiety, the panic, coursing through him; he is furious with himself all over again for not just killing his brother when he had the chance. “Can't you see, Michael,” he says reaching out, their Grace weaving together, “she is worse than destruction! She will unmake everything! There will be nothing left!”

Michael laughs before turning serious, “There will be us! She has promised me, there will be us! Her, our child, and us! What more do we need, Luci? Dad?” he scoffs. “He has done nothing, ever, but take from her! Try to stop her from taking what is hers!”

“What about everything else, Michael?” he has to make his brother see! “What about Gabriel? What about the Host? What about all this?” he looks at everything coming to life around him and he marvels, for a moment, at the beauty of it, the potential. “This is more than just what Dad did, Michael! This is life, Creation, that is moving along just life without Him! This is something even He doesn't have full control over and it has as much right to be as any of us! She has driven you mad, Michael, and I won't let her destroy all of this; I won't let her destroy you!”

“He's right Michael,” their Father's voice comes to them sadly, before He is beside them, moving between them. “She,” He sighs, hurt by what He is doing; Lucifer can tell. “She is mine, my family, the only thing that is wholly outside of Me. But she is won't stop until she and I are all that is,” the Lord shakes his head sadly. “She never stops until we are all that is. Do you think,” He looks between His sons, “this is the first time I've tried to let the potential around me be?” He goes over to pull Michael into Lucifer and holds them both, “It is so much more than I could have ever imagined! This, all of it, you; I can't let her stop me this time!”

“Really brother?” she is with them suddenly; a horrible thing, the exact opposite of her brother. Lucifer can see how void she is, feel how incapable of feeling she is. He wants to get Michael as far away from it, from her, as he can, but his brother breaks from them, immediately, and goes to her; it kills a little piece of him inside to watch and it kills him all over again to remember.

“Michael,” his father implores, reaching out to him, “help your brother! Help us send her where she cannot destroy anything ever again, please!”

“Help you brother?” she laughs, looking at Michael in triumph, but not affection. “Why would he help you? He will help me undo everything you've done and I will be free to take him,” she reaches for Lucifer and the angel backs away disgusted. “He will hold with us as you once did and I will be able to do as I have always done!”

“Sister, please!” Lucifer hears his father beg, but his aunt only laughs. 

He turns to Him then, “It's alright Dad.” He is calm, assured, when he speaks and his father looks at him bereft, “It's alright. I'll do it alone.” 

The memory of his father's touch, His power, blazing through him as He reaches inside of him at the same time He grasps hold of her, is the end of anything he remembers feeling besides agony; endless burning agony ripping through him on every conceivable level. He is about to pull away from the memory, but he hears his father's voice amid the pain and reaches for it; memory he didn't know he made. “I'm sorry, Lucifer, for what I've done to you. If Michael had helped you, if your soul had been complete, you could have sustained the Mark without what is coming.” The Lord's voice is sad and tearful but it hardens as He continues, turning to Michael, “You wanted to help her, thought she meant to take over. Well, if you wanted all this power, all this responsibility, then you can have it!” He spits at the oldest archangel before He is gone. 

Gabriel is there, then, holding him close as he writhes, shouting at Michael, “What happened? Is he okay? Where has Father gone?”

Michael turns an angry, blazing look on his little brother and seethes, “She's gone. He,” he pours fury into indicating Lucifer where he roils in pain in Gabriel's grip, “took her away from me! I'm in charge now little brother, and I will find a way to fix this! To bring her back!” 

Michael is gone then and Lucifer pulls himself, panting, out of his own memory. Slamming the book, he sends it skidding along the floor to rest by the shelf while he tries to take deep, calming breaths. After a few moments, he stands and makes his way back through the library. At the front of the room, he sees the podium and groans when he realizes what must have happened. 

“Dammit Sam!” he swears before he goes over to the podium; Sam was the only other person here and he did not pull Olle's card from the catalog. He looks down at the book and realizes the last thing Sam saw. Shaking his head, he picks up the card and puts it away. With a sudden snap, everything changes. The library changes then, to a table with a tablet and a very old, leather bound book on it. Picking up the tablet, Lucifer crushes it into dust; thereby erasing any and all memories that are not Sam's. Taking the book, his memories, he goes back into the waiting area, to find Sam sleeping in his chair.


	39. Chapter 39

Looking down at Sam, Lucifer thinks about taking the memories the hunter essentially stole. He tries to reason out that it would not be hurting Sam; he could just replace the memory of what Sam did, what he learned, with the memory of him sitting here sleeping the whole time Lucifer was digging through his psyche. He is, in fact, about to reach out and do just that when Gabriel's voice comes to him, “Guys? I hate to cut this short, but it's time to wake up. Luce, if you could just come back to us. Sammy, I'll bring you out as soon as Luce is done.”

With a sigh, Lucifer leaves Sam sleeping and withdrawals. He figures he can talk to Olle about what happened; that might be enough, if Olle can talk to Sam. Father, he hopes so, he prays as he is pulling himself back together and containing all his Grace within himself once again. He looks up to see Cas standing there, tablet in hand, talking to Olle and Dean while the two men watch a video on Olle's phone. He can hear Gabriel waking Sam up but the Holy Fire blocks anything outside the circle. 

“Okay Samsquatch, up and at 'em,” Gabriel says as Sam sits up. 

Everything is still for a moment and Lucifer wonders how Sam is going to react to Gabriel now, but the hunter just swings his feet off the table and, when his boots smear the markings on the floor, the Holy Fire dies. Noise floods the space, voices and video, so quickly the three struggle to make sense of it. 

Sam is the first to speak, walking over to stand with Cas, “What's going on?”

“It's Amara,” Cas says, handing Sam the tablet. “She's killed a street preacher and several of his followers.”

“Someone across the park,” Olle cuts in handing Sam his phone, “shot the whole thing on their cellphone; she turned a whole fountain into blood and rained down lightening.”

“Very Biblical,” Gabriel says coming up and ingratiating himself into the space between Sam's chest and his outstretched arm to watch the video while Lucifer, looking uncomfortably between them, watches over Sam's shoulder. 

“This is bad, guys,” Dean says getting up and starting to pace. “She's in Wichita, that's close, is she making her way here? Is she coming for me?” He is angry, but it is becoming more and more desperate. 

Sam is on his brother in a second, moving into his space and reaching out to take his shoulder; it stops the hunter's increasingly frantic pacing, “Dean, it'll be okay. We'll figure it out,” Sam's tone is soft and sure, calming his brother. “We treat this like any other case. I'll go check it out,” he says steering Dean back to where he was sitting. 

Dean shakes his head, though, as he sits, “I don't think so Sammy.”

“He's right,” Gabriel cuts in. “It's best if Dean goes.”

Everyone turns to look at the archangel then, not sure they heard him. Lucifer, though, is the one who speaks, “She is drawn to Dean and has said, on a number of occasions, that she will not hurt him. This video indicates she wants to talk to God, she will not do anything to Dean until she has spoken to Him. She wants to make Him watch while she tears it all down around His ears.”

“You remembered?” Olle asks, stepping closer and putting a hand on the angel's back. 

Lucifer nods, solemnly, “We can talk about it while Dean is gone. Maybe we'll all have some answers when he gets back.”

“I'll go with you,” Cas says then. 

“No,” Gabriel and Dean say at the same time. 

After exchanging a long look with the archangel, Dean goes on, “We know she won't hurt me, Cas. I just, don't want to put any of the rest of you in danger. I'll call you if I get into something I can't handle.” With a clap to the back for his brother and his angel, Dean leaves the infirmary to chase Amara. 

Sam and Cas follow Dean out of the room, both worried and not willing to let him go until they absolutely have to. Lucifer turns to his brother and Olle as they go to follow, “I need to talk to the both of you.”

Olle is immediately worried about what the archangel could have remembered, “What's wrong? How bad is it?”

Lucifer shakes his head, pulling them both over to the far side of the room and sits, facing them, on one of the beds, “No, it's not about what I remembered. It's about Sam.”

Olle gets a pit in his stomach, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Lucifer assures, “Sam's fine. It's just that, apparently, he got bored.”

“Fuck,” Olle swears under his breath, he knew, knew, something like this would happen. His worst fear was that Sam would pick up some memory that wasn't his. Taking those memories in would mean he saw them as his own and those experiences could plague him. “Do you know what he saw? What we can expect to have to deal with?”

The devil shakes his head, “While I was in there, his mind was taking in all of my more recent memories. I'm guessing he stumbled upon them first and it made him curious.” He shakes his head, Gabriel has been sitting quietly just watching him; he has no idea if his brother is two steps ahead, like usual, or if he is worried about him. “He had singled out you, Olle, and was going through my memories of you. Mainly, I think,” but his brother cuts him off.

“He was trying to find out what you knew about us,” Gabriel says with a sigh. “Do you know what he saw?”

Lucifer nods, “It looked like he started at the beginning and plucked here and there. I only have a very few memories of you, Olle, until,”

“Gabriel's death,” Olle says leaning forward, elbows on knees, head in hands. “And what happened between us after the Darkness was released. Son of a bitch,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair. 

“What have you told him,” Gabriel asks turning to look at Olle, “about us?”

“Not as much as I should have,” Olle admits, “if he's seeing it all from Luce's perspective.”

“And,” Lucifer wants to know, “what happens if the two of you can't find a way to work this out?”

“I, or Beth and I, go back to Kansas City. Work from there. Do as much as we can for all of you while staying as far away from Sam as we can,” Olle says being practical, but not knowing how he will feel if Sam decides he is a liar and wants nothing more to do with him. Neither of the angels look too happy about this possible scenario, but Olle just gets up, “Come on, breakfast; and we still have to talk about what you remembered.” Olle makes for the kitchen, Gabriel and Lucifer following along, all of them silent.


	40. Chapter 40

Sam turns to follow Cas back into the Bunker as Dean pulls out of the garage. He is worried about his brother, but his mind is full of Lucifer's memories of Olle and Gabriel as well. He keeps going over and over them, trying to reason with himself; wanting what Olle told him about Gabriel to be enough of an explanation. The more he thinks, though, the less satisfying his boyfriend's words become. Once he makes his way to the kitchen, hungry and wanting more coffee, he finds Olle, Gabriel, and Lucifer sitting down to eat. 

“Hey,” Olle says, getting up and heading over to the stove. “I made French Toast and bacon. Take my plate,” he says over his shoulder. “I just sat down; I'll make me some more.”

Sam smiles affectionately at Olle's back and wonders, as he sits down to eat his boyfriend's breakfast, why he has to worry about him and Gabriel so much. He believed Olle when he told him his history with Gabriel had nothing to do with them; he still does. Everyone is quiet around him, the angels eating, and it feels like it should be normal, but there is an undercurrent of tension. Olle is close behind him, then, picking up his coffee and sitting down two for Sam and Cas, who is nestled in by the wall; Olle will have to squeeze between them to eat. “So,” Olle says breaking the tension in the room, “tell us what you remembered Luce.”

“What about Balthazar and Beth?” Cas asks. 

“We let her sleep,” Gabriel says. “She was up all night getting everything ready. We can tell them later.”

Lucifer nods, “She and Baz went to Hawaii for the pipe and back to Kansas City for the herbs and to use the band saw. Dean went to bed around midnight, when they left for Hawaii, and she and Baz did everything; she needs to rest.” 

“Okay,” Sam says wondering why she went to all the trouble. “Why did she need to do that? Couldn't one of you just,” he snaps.

Olle squeezes himself in at the table with his plate and fresh coffee before he answers, “They can't call forth things out of thin air. Not even when Loki does, are they complete fabrications. Everything has to come from somewhere.”

“Only God can create, Sam,” Gabriel says. “What we do is move things around. Even as Loki, I had more leeway, but my illusions were real.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks curious. 

“It's all about transfer of energy,” Cas tries to explain then. “Physics applies, even to magick. God used the Big Bang, after all, to jump start Creation.”

“Loki's illusions were just a concentration of energy. Lightening, electricity, radiation in the air.” As Gabriel speaks, his grin gets wider and, when he is done, Cas jumps because a beautiful brunette drapes herself across his back, hands around his neck to rub against his chest as she purrs in his ear a simple, “Hi,” before she giggles and does the same thing to Olle, Sam, and Lucifer before dropping sideways across Gabriel's lap and kissing him. 

Olle chuckles, “Did you notice?” he turns to Sam while Gabriel is still making out with his brunette. “The room got colder and the lights dimmer and even the pilot on the stove fluttered.”

“That's pagan magick,” Sam says watching Olle's reaction to Gabriel's make-out session; the immortal seems unaffected. “What if he used Grace?”

Gabriel pulls away from the girl in his lap to answer, “I could conjure a body, a real body, but it wouldn't be anything but a body unless I had a soul to put in it; angels can't create. The body wouldn't, couldn't, be brought to life without a soul to put in it and would, eventually, decay.”

“So the things you use your Grace to get?” Sam wonders. “The endless cups of coffee, the furniture in the house, where did it all come from?”

“The coffee is Caribou, I like it better than Starbucks,” Gabriel says, “But the cups, Starbucks just has a mountain of red cups left floundering in storage rooms all over.” 

“Most of the furniture,” Lucifer answers, “came from Ashley Furniture. Beth shops online and, after checkout, it's easy to speed up delivery. You just have to know what you're looking for.”

“I think,” Olle laughs, “we're getting off topic. Luce,” he says getting up for more coffee and to give everyone a refill, “what did you remember?”

The angel continues to eat while he tells them all about his memories of Michael, his Father, Amara, and the Mark. When he is done, everyone is silent, lost in thought about what it could mean.

“What did He mean,” Cas asks, the first to speak, “when He said if Michael helped you, you could have sustained the Mark?”

Lucifer shakes his head, “I don't know.” He is telling the truth, even if he has a pretty good idea what his Father was talking about; Gabriel and Olle suspect as well, but no one says more. “I agreed to take the Mark, in the first place, to keep Dad from asking Gabriel. All I wanted,” he says quietly, sadly, “was to keep them all safe.”

“You're sure it was just force of will, Luce?” Gabriel asks quietly. He had sent his illusion away and taken his brother's hand, where it rested on the table, “He didn't say anything?”

Lucifer shakes his head, “It was just a touch. It was just like when I gave the Mark to Cain. It was a force of will; I merely wanted him to have it.”

“But,” Sam starts, “passing the Mark to Cain didn't take it away from you. It just spreads like a virus. That's not what God did. He created the Mark as a banishing and a binding. You merely spread the contamination, not the Mark itself.”

Lucifer shakes his head, “And Cain was able to take it back. All the Knights of Hell, at one time, carried the Mark.”

Sam looks a little shocked, “I thought once you had the Mark it was forever?”

“Cain could never get rid of the Mark,” Gabriel says, “because Lucifer spread his infection to both Blade and man. He always carried his bit of the Mark because the blade was bound to him by the deal he made, by what he did to Abel.”

“He could pass on his piece of the Mark and it could infect others,” Lucifer says. “That is why they were able to use the First Blade. Because of who your brother is, though,” Lucifer says, “when he killed Cain, he became the barer of the Mark.”

“To make a Knight of Hell,” Olle says, “anyone who carries the Mark must die. Like Dean, they became demon. But,” Olle stipulates, “Cain made the Knights by killing those he gave the Mark to, with the blade. That returned the Mark to him, while leaving the stain of the Mark on their soul. I can't even say I don't feel a hollow place inside of me where it use to be,” the immortal admits. 

“I doubt any of us will ever lose that,” Lucifer says rubbing his chest.

“Have we thought about reading the Book of the Damned?” Cas says carefully, turning to Sam. “Amara still has the Mark, according to Dean. It may be as easy as finding a way to reforge one side of it.”

All of them stare hard at him until Lucifer finally speaks, “Who would you give it to?”

“That,” Cas says, “remains uncertain.”

“If Fen's tattoo is strong enough,” Olle starts slowly, reasoning it out as he speaks, “if we can find a way to make it stronger, I'll take it. Then, it's just a matter of finding a secure place to put me; the dungeon, the Cage.”

“What?” Sam exclaims; any thought of being angry or hurt overshadowed by the idea of losing Olle all together. “You can't be serious!”

“It might work,” Lucifer admits slowly. 

“You'd be very dangerous,” Cas says. “After the damage done to the Cage, would it even contain you?” He turns to Gabriel, the maker of the Cage, for the answer.

Gabriel, though, is quiet. Finally, he stands up and stalks across the kitchen before turning; as he speaks he gets louder and louder, screaming at the end. “No! You're out of your fucking mind! Do you remember what I had to do to you, to everything, the last time?”

“If it's the only way?” Olle asks calmly, staring the angel down where he is leaned against the refrigerator door. 

“Don't ask me to watch this happen to you again,” he whispers, tears in his eyes. “I can't,” he says before he vanishes.


	41. Chapter 41

“Fuck,” Olle mumbles under his breath, shaking his head. He turns to Lucifer, “Hey Luce, can you, go check on him?” With a nod, the angel is gone and Olle turns to look at Sam, still sitting, silent, beside him, “Babe, Sam,” he reaches out to rub a hand up and down Sam's back, “tell me what you're thinking.” He knows Sam is mulling over everything he saw and everything they just talked about; the fact that he is so quiet, though, is making Olle anxious. 

Sam has no idea what to think. Watching Gabriel brought to tears was almost too much. The angel has yet to really show he has a problem with Sam and Olle, but that was everything Sam saw when the angel wept in his brother's arms; the thought of losing Olle forever. All he thought when Olle offered himself up as the sacrifice was: Maybe Dean will be safe. He realizes, now, Olle is still waiting, patiently, for an answer. Clearing his throat, Sam tries to figure out what to say. 

Thankfully, Cas cuts him off before he can speak, “I'm going to go see what information we have about the Book of the Damned and its contents. If we are going to use it, we need to know what we are getting ourselves into.” With that, he is gone and Sam is left with Olle still waiting for an answer.

“I can't believe you'd just agree to do this,” Sam says finally. “Why?”

Olle knows, can see by the look on his face, that was not what Sam wanted to say. He just shakes his head, “Who else? I'm supposed to, what,” Olle asks seriously, “expect you or Dean? Gabe or Luce? Cas? To do it?” He shakes his head, “Worse case, you throw me in the pit and find someone to really do the Black Trials. Crowley and I will sit around wishing we had Craig after I've purged Hell.” He laughs a little and Sam thinks he is joking but he is serious, “We'll take turns torturing each other; it'll be fun.”

Sam shakes his head, reaching out to lace their fingers together where Olle's hands rests on the table, “You'd do that to him?” 

Olle knows what Sam means, but he tries to deflect, “Crowley? Yeah, he'd get off on it, but,” he shrugs, “that wouldn't be the worst thing. I hear he's pretty good at what he does.”

Sam squeezes his hands and scrunches up his face, “Ew, gross,” they both laugh. “I think you know what I meant,” he says seriously. 

“Yeah Sam,” Olle says letting goes of his hand and shifting, back to the wall so he can look at his boyfriend, “I know what you meant. I know what you did. I know, sort of, what you saw. I just want to know, why?”

“Why I looked?” he asks and Olle just glares at him. “I was curious, I was bored. I didn't think I'd find out you were in-love with an archangel. I didn't think I'd find out that the scars that I thought I'd just missed before, because I wasn't rubbing myself all over you, are only a few weeks old!” He is upset and his voice rises with his temper. 

“Do you know what they mean?” Olle asks. 

“He owns your soul,” Sam says harshly. 

Olle laughs, “You've never told Dean, have you?” When Sam just grunts at him, not making eye contact he knows he is right. “It's different for Dean and Cas because Cas really does own his soul. Gabriel doesn't own my soul, I didn't sale it to him. He laid claim to it as a protector. It is a proclamation, to anyone strong enough to see it, that he will die to keep me, my soul, safe.”

“That means,” Sam starts shocked. “The tattoo?” 

Olle huffs a laugh and shrugs, “Beth is marked as well. That means he laid claim to my soul, all of it. Lucifer was furious; I could tell by the look on his face. He stood up for Creation and took hold of it, basically vowing to even fight his Father if it came to it.” Olle still can't believe it, wants Gabriel to take it back somehow. “If I could get him to take it back somehow,” he shrugs and realizes he is lying, but can't stop himself. “He was drunk and depressed and had just hurt my feeling,”

“Over Kali,” Sam cuts in. 

“Yeah,” Olle answers curtly. “He just wanted me to stop being mad at him, and was wallowing in his own short comings. Like saying 'I love you' during sex and immediately regretting it.”

“Do you really think,” Sam says incredulously, “that is what he did? Or are you just bullshitting us both? He loves you, you love him; I can see it every time you look at each other. You had him in tears a few minutes ago just talking about maybe throwing yourself on this Amara grenade. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“I don't know how you're supposed to feel,” Olle says sighing, almost tiredly. “But, apparently, you're pissed off. Do you think I lied to you when I told you about him? What can I do?” Olle sits forward and runs his hand through Sam's hair gently, pressing his face into the side of Sam's neck and inhaling his scent, “Tell me what I can do, please.” 

Sam moves away gently, body singing from Olle's touch, the feel of his breath on Sam's neck and the sound of his voice, begging, in his ear. He needs to think! “Last night, we talked about me needing time to think. Well, I need that now.” He runs his hands through his hair and rubs the back of his neck, very much like Dean, “We both, I believe, need some time to figure out what we want.”

Olle nods agreement, but has to say, “I want you. Since I heard your voice on the phone the first time we talked, since I saw those ridiculous dimples for the first time the night we met,” he grins at the memory. “Since I learned, first hand, what an intelligent, compassionate, good person you are; I've wanted you. He has nothing to do with that, now or ever. If, though, for whatever reason, you decide you no longer want me; I'll respect that. As soon as this whole thing with Amara is taken care of, I'll leave you alone.” Olle moves to the kitchen doorway, but stops to look back, “If you don't want me anymore Sammy, that's fine, but don't think for an instant that is going to make Gabe and I jump back in bed together. That's done, permanently.” 

With that, Olle disappears down the corridor and Sam sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back, heavily, against the wall. What, he wonders to himself, is he supposed to do now?


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My whole life is going to crap right now and I'm currently homeless...sort of. Where I was living wasn't working out and I'm currently headed to Florida to live with my aunt and her husband. They have no internet connection, no computer, no phone, and I'm losing my cell phone. This will be the last chapter I'm able to post for who knows how long. Sorry.

Dean has gotten nowhere in the few hours he has been in Wichita. He questioned the police, went through their report about the attack in the park, even talked to the kid who shot the video; the kid seemed to have his soul so Dean was counting that as a win. Now, he was on his way to a local catholic church; where another massacre had taken place. 

Dean hates those little blue booties they make you put on over your shoes, but a hard look around and he is thankful for them just so Baby doesn't need her carpet cleaned. Over a dozen bodies all told, half of them near the front of the church, where the priest had his head smashed in against the alter and Dean knows it is Amara; would swear he could feel her, if the thought wasn't freaking him out so much. With a few questions and a couple of curt nods to the Detective in Charge, Dean heads back outside to take a breath and think. He saw a hot dog vendor in the square as he arrived, he skipped breakfast after all, but his phone rings on his way down the steps of the church. 

“Hey Sammy,” Dean says putting his phone to his ear while he looks around, feeling like someone is watching him. 

“Dean,” Sam smiles into the phone; after everything that just happened he is glad to hear his brother's voice. “Have you found anything?”

“Place is covered in blood, a massacre, but witnesses saw the priest talking to a woman, who was not killed,” Dean says pacing at the edge of the sidewalk. 

“Amara?” Sam thinks.

“Yeah, probably,” Dean admits. 

“She's gonna pass the point where we can deal with her,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, well,” Dean rubs his forehead, “Luce come up with anything useful? And, hey, are you okay? You seemed off before I left.”

“He remembered,” Sam tells his brother, “but it's nothing that is immediately useful. It was just,” he shakes he head, “He did it with touch, man, and Luce and Gabe have no idea how to go about recreating that much power.”

“Okay, Sam,” Dean sighs, “but, are you okay?”

Sam sighs out a long breath before he admits, “I'm not, not okay. Olle and I...”

“What did you do Sam?” Dean wonders shaking his head. 

Sam does a full body shake and decides, “It's nothing, Dean, not important. Just, be careful and I'll see you later.”

“Yeah Sammy,” Dean relents, “okay. Later.” 

As Dean turns to make his way across the street, he really wants a hot dog, a young priest stops him, “Excuse me,” the man says, visibly shaken, “are you with the police? The man over there,” he gestures to an even younger officer guarding the string of police tape, “said I should talk to someone in charge about when and where I need to go to make arrangements for Father Dixon and the Sisters.”

Dean sighs and turns to the other man; he may not be a real FBI Agent, but decades of working with victims and witnesses means he tends to act like one, “I'll show you who can talk to Father, come with me.” Taking the priest by the arm, Dean heads back inside to find Detective Collins. 

**

After almost an hour of helping Father Finn, Dean leaves the man and, thankfully, sees he can still grab something to eat; for the first time today. The feeling of being watched, though, intensifies as he walks across the street. He searches, but sees no one; especially not Amara. His phone starts to ring as he orders his hot dog, but, before he can answer, a pulsing ache spreads through him, originating from the place on his arm where the Mark use to be, and the sense of being watched is overwhelming. Turning away from the street cart, Dean sees her, Amara, and his phone is thoughtlessly stuffed back in his pocket as he is drawn, however unwillingly, toward her as she speaks. 

'Felt her presence? Yeah,' Dean thinks dazedly, 'hard to ignore a burning sense of foreboding that spreads through your whole body.' It feels exactly like when the Mark took him completely over. As he lands in an abandoned stretch of wet field, he hopes Amara cannot, is not, plucking thoughts from his head. The least she will do is be unamused by his ramblings. At most, she will leave him here and, by the time he gets back to the Bunker, Olle and Beth will be dead while Sam, Linda, and all the angels will be soulless, or worse. 

Listening to her talk about her brother, about God, like Creaton is nothing more, to either of them, than an opportunity to show each other up is devastating, but Dean's soldier's instincts kick in and he remains level headed. Trying to reason with her, however, gives him a glimpse of what she is planning. As drawn to her as he is, the idea of everyone feeling as disconnected and out of control as he feels right now is not his idea of peaceful perfection. He has to take a deep breath and ask, “What's in it for you? What do you deserve?”

“Everything,” she says before going on.

The more she speaks, the more he sees what Lucifer was talking about, the sucking, overwhelming nothingness that she really is. He knows what he has to do and it takes everything in him to do it. With a burst of will he never thought he possessed, he turns, intending to shove his knife into Amara's abdomen. He is not shocked so much as terrified and defeated when the knife shatters at the point of contact. He tries to take a step back, but her voice and her power send him reeling again, falling into the abyss that is her, and, before he knows what is going on, she is kissing him. 

“What was that?” Dean is disgusted with himself, rubbing his lips; she still seems to radiate through him from there and he wants rid of her. Bonded? They're bonded? His mind feels too full of the words she is saying and his every instinct has always been, will always be, to run and fight against anything called destiny. 

“No, that's, that's not going to happen,” he shakes his head, fighting what feels like an inevitable pull he only wants to drown in, as she tells him they will be together. 

“It's so simple Dean,” she makes it as blatantly obvious as the color of the sky, “we will become one.” She pauses, confusion and the beginnings of anger tinge her face, “Why wouldn't you want that?” 

Before he can answer, they are interrupted by angels. Their demands and her unwavering refusal to be anything but affronted by her brother's creation are not a good combination. “Whoa, whoa, whoa fellas, dial it down a bit, would ya?” Dean tries to get between them, as futile as that will be, because he knows this can lead to nothing good. As she lays waste to the three messengers, however, he sees how defenseless they are against her and, as the sky begins to shudder with the unified power of Heaven, he finds himself, once again, standing in the park next to the hot dog vendor. 

He is shaking and his mind is reeling, he looks around almost frantic, searching for any indication of where he was so he can get back there and see what happened. “Hey,” Dean is jerked out of his terror by the street vendor, “it's $3 even, you get a soda and chips for another two.” 

Dean shoves a five into the guys hand and, with a mumbled thanks, grabs a bag of Doritos and a can of Coke with his hot dog. As he starts to eat, he fumbles in his pocket for his phone.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BITCHES! 
> 
> I'd like to take the opportunity to tell you how much I appreciate the constant support and love that is always give by this fandom, this family. I found myself in a bad way back in October and I had to make some drastic choices about my life to get myself back on track. I found help and support from family, both given and chosen, and I'm doing much better now. I have a place to live again now, I've gotten a job, and I'm working on dragging myself out of student loan default Hell. 
> 
> YEAH ME! 
> 
> I've had the opportunity to write the past couple weeks and it has come in stops and starts that have gotten me further than I thought I would after so long away from the computer. I'll be posting a few chapters together and it will slow again after, but I'll be finished with True Detectives soon and on to the next installment. 
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has offered support and I hope those of you who have been reading will continue to do so. 
> 
> Thank you again.

Beth stirs at the sound of her phone. Head pillowed on Balthazar's lower abs, she pulls herself up and crawls over the angel to reach the night stand. Sitting back on his chest, knees buries in his armpits, she answers, groggily, “Hello?”

“Beth, hey, good,” Dean's voice comes through the phone, muffled by food. 

“Dean?” Beth says confused as to why he would be calling instead of knocking on the door. 

Hands smoothing up her thighs, Balthazar says, “He's in Wichita, ask him what he needs and if everything is okay. I'll explain later,” the angel says wrapping his hands around her hips. 

“Are you okay Dean?” she asks, knowing Balthazar will fill her in on whatever he heard while she was sleeping. 

“Can you access weather satellites? I was with Amara, but angels showed up and they were going to smite her. I don't know where and I need to get back there and find out what happened!” Dean sounds frustrated, desperate, and angry. 

“Yeah,” she says snapping to attention. “Hang on,” giving Balthazar her phone, she crawls to the other side of the bed and grabs her laptop. “Speaker,” she tells the angel as she opens the lid and starts to click away. “Where do you think you were?” she asks Dean as she starts infiltrating the National Weather Service, NASA, and the World Meteorological Organization. 

“I don't think it was too far away from where I am in Wichita,” Dean answers. “The time and the season didn't seem to change. Look for rain recently, it was wet wherever she took me.”

“But,” Balthazar says now, “she didn't hurt you, right? And, when you were in danger, she put you back where you were. What did she do to the angels?”

“They're dead, Baz,” Dean says. “I'm sorry. But, they were threatening a smiting by the entire host. Could that destroy her?”

Balthazar and Beth both shake their heads. “I doubt it,” the angel answers. 

Beth cuts in then, “I've got it! There was what the National Weather Service is calling a freak lightening storm in the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge in Stafford; about an hour and half from where you are now. I'll send the coordinates and directions to your phone.”

As Beth continues to focus on her screen, Balthazar turns off the speaker phone and speaks to Dean, “You can't go in there alone Dean. Did she act like she read your mind at all? Did she let on that she knew we were back, helping? I can go get Gabriel and Lucifer, if they haven't already been listening; we can come.”

“No,” Dean says right away. “No, I don't think she knows, yet, that you're all back. We need to keep that from her as long as possible. I'll,” Dean sighs, “I'll call Cas. She knows about him and the rest of you can get to us in a moment if we need you.”

“Alright Dean,” Balthazar relents. “Just be careful. Don't trust any of my brothers; if they realize she is drawn to you, they could decide to take you as leverage.”

“I'll be careful Baz,” Dean chuckles. “Tell our brothers what's going on for me, please.”

“Alright Dean,” the angel says before hanging up. Looking over at Beth, he asks, “Are we ready for this?”

“Go get everyone and fill them in,” she says still focused on her screen before she scowls, “We need to clean out that conference room. I'll be there in a minute.”

“In the library, my lady,” the angel says with a smile as he slides off the bed and grabs his clothes. 

**

Beth comes into the library carrying her laptop and drops in a chair at the head of the table; Sam, Olle, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Balthazar already milling about. Linda wanders in after her, coffee in hand with an extra one for Beth; Kevin stuck to his mother like glue. Before Beth can do more than nod thanks for the coffee, though, Cas comes in and says, “I've just spoken to Dean. I have to go.” 

His phone beeps then, and Beth says, “I've sent coordinates and directions to your phone. If you leave now, you'll get there about the same time he does.”

With a nod, the young angel turns toward the door. “Wait a minute, Cas,” Gabriel says. “You're not sending him out there on his own!” he turns to stare between Beth and Olle. 

The immortals huff a quiet, rueful laugh and shake their heads before Beth speaks, “Dean doesn't believe Amara knows about any of you,” she looks between Gabriel and his older brother. “Cas, though, will be expected. We cannot show our hand too early. We still have no idea how to bring her to heel, how to send her away.” 

“So you send him to slaughter?” Gabriel accuses. 

“Brother,” Cas says, going over to put his hand on his brother's shoulder, “I'll be alright. If the smiting did not harm her, she will be long gone when we get there.”

Gabriel shakes his head, “You don't know that. We don't know anything,” he says looking to the others for help.

“We'll see you when you get back,” Lucifer says to Cas, indicating he is free to leave. “We will be listening for you, if you need anything.” With a nod, Cas heads for the garage while Lucifer faces down an angry glare from his younger brother. 

“Okay,” Beth say cheerily, to break the tension, “I need to talk to all of you.”

Once everyone is settled at the table, Beth says, “I want a Christmas tree.”

Olle and Balthazar laugh at the change of topic while Gabriel is still staring daggers at Lucifer and Beth. With a snap from the youngest angel, the telescope is safely stored away in the archive, replaced with a beautiful, fifteen foot tall evergreen. “There you go love,” the angel grins at the smile on Beth's face. 

Beth gets up to drop in the angel's lap and plant a happy kiss on his lips, “Thanks Baz,” she says. “Now,” she turns in his lap to look at everyone, “we gotta decide how to decorate before Dean and Cas get home.”

“You really wanna do Christmas?” Olle asks. He had wanted to celebrate the holiday, but, after his earlier conversation with Sam, all thought of a celebration vanished. Now, though, with Balthazar's huge tree, he can feel the tingle of the holiday spirit. “Lights and garland or popcorn and cranberries?” he asks, giving in to the happy, hopeful look on Beth's face. 

Beth smiles and, when Gabriel realizes they are not going to argue with him about Cas, everyone starts talking about decorations, wreaths, and, when the youngest archangel finally joins the conversation, all the holiday cookie and candies as well as a gingerbread house. 

“So Sam,” Beth says, looking up from the list she is making on her laptop, still in Balthazar's lap, “do we want to wait for Dean or surprise him?”

Sam is more than a little overwhelmed by all the plans Beth and Olle are making for decorations in the Bunker, presents, and food. Even with Riot, Christmas was not this important; they exchanged one gift each and had dinner with Riot's father at a restaurant before going to the movies. Sam has no idea if his brother will prefer to help decorate or just enjoy arriving home to find it all already done. “I, uh,” Sam shakes his head.

“If he's anything like Gabriel,” Lucifer cuts in, “he'll enjoy the baking, but not the decorating. I say we get as much done as possible before he returns and,” he smiles at Gabriel, “let him ice cookies and decorate a gingerbread house.”

Beth nods, finally getting out of Balthazar's lap, “Lights and garland,” she says matter of factly. “Let's go shopping.” When Balthazar is the only one who stands, she shakes her head, “Nope, come on, family effort, everyone; let's go!”

As everyone gets to their feet, Olle says, “I'll stay here, in case they get back before you do. Dean will worry if he gets back and everyone is gone.”

“Good,” Beth grins, “I can get your Christmas present while we're gone. Come on Sam,” she takes him by the arm, “let's go find our brothers something for Christmas.” 

With a snap from Lucifer, Olle is sitting alone in the library. With a sigh, he decides to head downstairs to the main library and try to help Gabriel put a dent in his research on a binding spell.


	44. Chapter 44

Cas can sense the power of the smiting as he closes in on the coordinates Beth sent to his phone. Ahead, he can see the Impala stopped in the middle of the road; Dean, slumped on the road next to the driver's door. Parking behind Baby, Cas makes his way, urgently, to Dean.

“Dean,” the angel crouches to examine his best friend; suspecting smiting sickness. He is sweating, the clear emerald of his eyes encompassed by pupil, and Cas can see he is visibly shaking, breath coming in deep, slow gasps. When the hunter refuses to allow Cas to check his temperature, the angel backs away reluctantly. 

When Cas' hand grips Dean's, to steady and help pull him to his feet, the touch of skin on skin reassures him Dean's temperature is only slightly elevated and, if he can keep him away from the concentrated Grace, the hunter should be well again soon. Volunteering to examine the sight alone is the only way he can think of to ensure Dean's safety. When the hunter has turned the Impala, headed back to Lebanon, Cas breathes a sigh of relief and returns to his Continental; heading for ground zero of Amara's smiting. 

As Cas nears the point of contact with the smiting, Amara's power becomes apparent as the dreary December sun gives way to twilight and, the closer he gets to the concentrated power of the smiting, total Darkness. He notices, too, subtle symptoms of smiting sickness in himself and curses his diminished Grace. Nausea and blurred vision aside, he wishes he had a flashlight so he can venture out of the Continental and look around, but he is afraid even that light will not penetrate this unnatural night. The Continental's headlights offer no more than a few feet of murky road ahead of him and he is forced to stop when they no longer penetrate the creeping power of Amara. Maybe, the angel thinks hopefully to himself, this means she will be lying, incapacitated, at the center of this angelic horror. 

Once he can drive no further safely, Cas stops and begins his journey on foot; the meager flashlight on his cell phone his only, unhelpful, source of light. The utter Darkness, however, makes not only his search but each step treacherous and he is forced to return to the relative safety of his vehicle. The wait, for the Darkness to begin to dissipate, is hours; plenty of time for Dean to make it back to the Bunker. When deep twilight seems to replace the impregnable nothingness around him, Cas ventures out of his Continental to search for answers. 

The first thing to attract his attention, is the smoldering hole in the ground where the full force of Grace touched down. Amara is nowhere to be seen and Cas hears movement in the trees behind him; angel blade in hand, he turns to investigate. Knowing, after the conversation they all had when Beth came to the Bunker two weeks ago, Amara must be alive, or Creation would have ended; Cas hopes his aunt is at least injured enough to be easily taken into custody and returned to the Bunker. Finding a way to bind her, return her to her exile, can be more easily accomplished if she is close at hand to be, for lack of a better word, experimented on. 

Brought up short by the presence of another angel, not Amara, Cas is cautious, but curious. Ambriel, she says her name is; she works in birth/death statistics in Heaven. Cas is, for the first time in years, struck by the presence of the poor young girl's soul trapped in there with the angel and he realizes how far he had fallen before his brothers came back to enhance his Grace. He realizes, too, some of his older brother's snark seems to be rubbing off when he asks her, “Why is it Dark? It's the middle of the afternoon.”

When Ambriel seems to shrug off this revelation, Cas sighs and wonders what his brothers and sisters see when they look at him, because he finds himself nearly as befuddled by them as he once was by humanity. “I never wanted this, you know,” Cas says, hoping to make her understand. “To be hated by my own kind.”

“Oh, I don't hate you Castiel,” she says quickly. 

He breathes a heartfelt sigh of relief and says sincerely, “Thank you.” Before his thoughts can run away with him again, though, he realizes she is still talking. 

“We have a lot in common,” she says in a rambling, nervous way. “Our names rhyme, that's a big one. I look good in a trench coat too. And, uh, we're both expendable,” she says this in a professional way, with no emotion and only the briefest hesitance; more afraid of what Cas will do to her for saying it than she is unsure of the truth in her words. 

“Excuse me?” Cas says more shocked than angry. After everything that has happened, after Metatron, he knows he is not the angel he once was, but that thought has never occurred to him. Is he, really, expendable? He knows his brothers are stronger than him, much stronger. He has seen them training, daily, with Beth or Olle, and the immortal is breathtaking in battle, but no real match for angels. He has consistently refused to train with them, though, because he knows he is a poor sparing partner, in deed; even compared to Dean. He understands his brothers need Dean's connection to Amara, Sam intelligence, but is he merely a hanger on? Is that why Dean called him instead of rallying the archangels? If one of his older brothers is killed, they will never be able to muster the power needed to send Amara away. Gabriel seemed convinced he is going to his death and, even though he seemed unhappy about it, he did let him go.

“Uh,” she is nervous now, “well, that's why we're here, right?” She is gaining confidence, though, as she realizes how true her words are, “I'm a number cruncher and, and you, like I said: I've hear the stories,” she laughs a little hear and Cas cannot decide if she is impressed or amused. “You help,” amused, he realizes, “but Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes. So, if the Darkness is still alive and she's pissed and she kills us: no big loss. So, sure, maybe we're not super important, but we do the job. You know,” she says proudly, “I think there's nobility in that. Coming?” Ambriel starts to wonder away; through the trees, to the other side of the clearing.

“I'll catch up,” Cas says thoughtfully, mind too full of this new, rambling, uncertainty.


	45. Chapter 45

Dean heads through the Bunker, calling his brother's name, trying to ignore how bad he feels, and getting increasingly worried. Where is everyone? Did Amara walk away from the smiting totally unscathed, only to come here? 

“Sam?” he calls, stalking from the elevator, through the main library; toward Gabriel's tables of research. 

“They've all gone out,” Olle's voice comes back at him from behind a huge pile of research. “A few hours ago. Christmas shopping,” the giant of a man says, standing to look at Dean. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Dean says automatically, but Olle comes around the table and reaches out, in full-on doctor mode. “What are you doing?” Dean grumps, trying unsuccessfully to pull away as Olle puts a hand to his forehead before tilting his chin up and examining his eyes. 

“How close did you get to the smiting?” Olle asks; Dean still has a temperature, his pupils are dilated, his skin is clammy, and he is shaking. 

“I don't know,” Dean finally jerks away. “About a mile or so, why?” He knows he does not feel well, but has been trying to chalk it up to anxiety. 

“Out?” Dean thinks to ask while Olle starts to lead him back to the elevator. “What do you mean Christmas shopping?” Dean can not believe Sam agreed to do anything that has anything to do with Christmas. 

“Did Cas check you out?” Olle asks while they ride the elevator back to the main floor. Dean tries to pull away when Olle backs him into the corner and starts to poke at his face and neck before cupping his face and telling him, “Open your mouth.”

Dean keeps trying to pull away, but Olle is monstrous in size and his voice is even more commanding than Dean's own. “He said I was suffering from,”

“Smiting sickness,” Olle finishes as the doors open and Dean darts around him, into the hallway. 

“Yeah,” Dean says coming into the War Room and noticing, as he looks into the library, the tree that has replaced the telescope. He gets an excited, child-like, happy feeling and smiles. Dean really enjoys Christmas and is thankful for Olle because, as his boyfriend, Olle can get Sam to do things he would not do for Dean; which only hurts his feelings a little. 

“Infirmary,” Olle says coming up to take Dean by the elbow and point as he starts to lead the smaller hunter through the door across the room. “They should be back soon and, if you cooperate, you'll be able to help with the tree and, if Gabe has anything to say about it, the mountains of confections that will be coming out of the kitchen between now and the end of the month.”

Dean chuckles, but his head is pounding, he is still sweating, and the nausea that caused him to scramble not to vomit his hot dog all over Baby's dash has never gone away; even if his stomach is empty. “What are you going to do to me?” he wonders. “How do you even treat smiting sickness?” He shakes his head as Olle pushes him down on a gurney, “I still can't believe that's a thing.”

“Yeah,” Olle grins, “I know.” He helps Dean strip down to his t-shirt, starts him on a saline IV, stuffs a thermometer in his ear until it beeps, then finds a stethoscope, and a blood pressure cuff while he explains smiting sickness to Dean. “Lot's wife turned to salt, remember? Your body isn't able to deal with such concentrated Grace. The destructive power of it, released without purpose like that, can do terrible things.” Going over to drug storage, Olle continues, “I'm going to give you something to lower your blood pressure and your fever. You're going to need a couple bags of fluids and I want to take some blood,” he says coming back over to Dean with syringes, medication, and empty vials. “Just do a few tests to make sure that's all you need. The guys can't heal you, so you're just going to have to put up with it.”

Dean does not complain, just watches Olle use his IV port to take blood before he feeds two different medicines through the line. “Is there anything you can do about the nausea?” he wonders. “I'm starving and I blew the only thing I'd eaten all day, right before Cas found me.”

Olle rummages in a cabinet before he hands Dean a blister pack with two tiny green pills inside, “They dissolve in your mouth. You can eat in a half hour or so, if you're feeling better. I'll give you some electrolytes and bring you some ginger tea.”

Dean watches Olle piggyback another bag onto his IV before he leaves the room with a promise to return with tea and toast. Once he is alone, Dean realizes he has been parented into compliance by Olle; much the same way he often does Sam. The bigger man simply continued on with what must happen without allowing the opportunity for Dean to realize or object. He chuckles to himself as he grabs his IV-stand and heads for the kitchen. 

“How did you talk Sam into celebrating Christmas?” Dean wonders as he drops into a seat against the wall and watches Olle make tea. 

“I didn't,” the immortal smiles, “Beth merely declared it was what she wanted and, with a little help from Baz and Luce, Sam was given no choice but to comply. It's all going to happen weather he wants it or not, so he is just sort of going with it.” Olle comes over and sits two pieces of lightly buttered toast in front of Dean with a mug of ginger tea and jar of honey. 

Dean looks into his mug, several large pieces of fresh ginger and a few pieces of mint covered in hot water, before he reaches for the honey, “Why didn't you go with them?” He knows something is up, Sam all but admitted it earlier on the phone. 

Olle shrugs, “If you'd come back and we were all gone, you'd've freaked.” In hind sight, Olle realizes it was probably not a good idea to send Sam and Gabriel anywhere together, but it is far too late to do anything about it now. “Besides,” he shrugs, “Beth said something about them both buying our presents and she won't want me to know what it is.”

Dean does not believe anything Olle just said, but he is starting to feel better, and that is making him tired, so he just sips his tea and picks at his toast.


	46. Chapter 46

Cas is standing alone, by the edge of the clearing, lost in thought. He knows he should be focused on the mission, Amara; she is dangerous and it is foolish of him to be distracted. He finds, however, he cannot help but replay Ambriel's words on a loop in his mind while he recalls all the times he has been, either by choice or circumstance, the sacrificial lamb to Sam and Dean's heroic stand against ultimate evil. He marvels at how, not for the first time, he realizes he always seems to do more harm than good. Even the removal of the Mark, which would have been impossible without his appeal to Crowley, has turned out to be a horrible occurrence. Rowena's curse, another terrible result of the Mark's removal, forced him to murder two angels and Hannah, despite what she did, did not deserve to die because of him. 

Now, especially since his brothers have returned, he see himself for what he is, cannon fodder; utterly useless, unless they need someone to die for them. The thought, however much he feels it to be true, frightens him; he has not really wanted to die in years. Unfortunately, if that is what it takes to stop the end of all things, he is always happy to bleed, and die, for the Winchesters. With that thought in mind, he clears his head and returns his focus to what he came here to do: determine what, if any, damage the Host's smiting dealt to Amara.

As Cas makes his way through the trees, following after Ambriel, he sees a bright blue flash of Grace in the distance and calls, “Ambriel?” as he starts to run. 

Too late to save the angel, or the young woman's soul, Cas comes to a stop on the edge of a muddy dirt road and is forced to watch Amara consume and extinguish every ounce of life in Ambriel's body. Once the body drops, gray and empty, to the forest floor, Amara turns to face him and he feels a ripple of power; dark and empty. This ripple moves over him and he is witness as the dissipating darkness is drawn back into Amara. Everywhere his aunt's energy lay, though, is black, shriveled, and worse than dead; the energy of Creation polluted, destroyed, not even fit to use as compost. 

“What,” Cas stalks through the last of the underbrush and down to the road, “what did you do to her?” He looks between his aunt and the void vessel that once housed Ambriel and a vibrant human soul. A fear, one he has not felt since he was human, washes over him as he nears her; he is certain he is about to die. 

Amara smiles, an empty, human gesture that seems all wrong coming from her, “I consumed her.” 

As she walks closer to Cas, he can feel her power radiating from her and he is terrified. How did he ever think he can stand against her? The temptation to pray for help from Gabriel and Lucifer is almost too much, but he knows, until they find a way to bind her, his brothers cannot stand against her. They sent him here to die and he will not give them away on the off chance he can save himself.

Amara grins again, “Her grace, her spark, her memories, everything.” She sounds thoughtful, here, it is almost possible to watch as she plays through everything she just took from Ambriel and her vessel. “She, awe, she really hit the spot,” Amara says with a sigh. 

Cas wonders how badly injured she was before Ambriel's soul restored her. The awesome power he feels radiating from her, even now, makes him fear for Gabriel's success at finding a binding spell strong enough to banish her without their Father's help. He is determined to live his last few minutes well, though, and, blade in hand, he stalks toward her. 

“Seriously,” Amara wonders amused, “I mean, Heaven brought the thunder an it barely even scratched my paint job but, yeah, you and a pointy knife. That's really going to do the trick?”

Her dismissal makes him angry and he cannot help but ask, “Do you think I'm afraid to die?”

“I know you are,” she answers immediately, coming toward him totally unafraid. “You wreak of fear and self-loathing,” she says facing him down as Cas moves toward her, blade in hand. As the angel strikes out, Amara takes him by the wrist and, deadpan, quips, “Ooh, scary,” before using her unnatural strength to throw Cas across the road, back against a tree.

As Amara stalks toward him, Cas feels power radiating from her and is dazed by it. As he struggles upright, trying and failing to get to his feet, Amara says, “She was right, you are expendable and weak.” Leaning down to push her face into his, knocking him back against the tree with the force of her power, she wonders, baffled, “Why God took a special interest in you, I'll never understand. My brother always did have horrible taste in men.”

He is determined to fight her, force her to kill him instead of consume him; so she will not find out about Gabriel and Lucifer. Amara reaches out, hand to his face, and he feels it, for the first time, the Mark. Nothing could have prepared him for the nothingness he feels wash through him; if this is what Dean felt, what Lucifer suffered through, no wonder they became the monsters they were under her influence. He feels her insatiable need to quash everything in her path; claim and unmake all of Creation. The devastation around them makes him curious suddenly, what, if anything, does it mean for Olle's health and well being? Are he and Beth damaged by the havoc she deals to Creation? 

He prays to his Father for the first time since he threw away Dean's amulet. He prays his family, Sam, Dean, Claire, his archangel brothers, Balthazar, even Olle and Beth, remain safe. He prays they are successful at stopping Amara's assault on Creation. He prays Olle is unaffected by Amara's generalized destruction; Gabriel will need him to be okay, so he will stay focused on finding a way to stop her. 

He attempts to pull himself away from her, begin his last ditch effort at survival, but she is more powerful than he can fathom and he finds himself unable to move. Hopeless, but still defiant, Cas demands,“Just do it!” The angel is terrified, but ready to die. 

“Blue eyes,” she says with a shake of her head, “you aren't even worth the effort. No offense, but you look a bit used up. Plus, I have a job for you.”

Searing pain moves through Cas and he screams, certain she is consuming him. Cast into a void, the pain seems to last forever, before the world around him rights itself once again. Looking around, Cas realizes he is in a corridor of the Bunker, outside the kitchen. The pain traveled with him, there is a burning ache in his chest and he rips his shirt open to see the words, “I AM COMING,” emblazoned across his chest. There are voices coming from down the corridor, toward the War Room, and, covering his aunt's message, he heads that way.


	47. Chapter 47

Dean is feeling much better, Olle has left him alone in the kitchen while he goes to do whatever it is he is going to do with the blood he took from Dean. The hunter is taking the opportunity to grab a pack of the frosted chocolate Pop Tarts Gabriel has managed to make appear in the cabinet; toast was not enough to curb his hunger. 

“I don't clean up vomit,” the giant chuckles, coming down the stairs and dropping opposite Dean at the table. 

The hunter laughs, swallowing, “I'll be alright.” Looking down at his phone, Dean wonders if Cas is okay. 

Olle notices, “Gabriel will know if something is wrong and the others would come get us.” He is as worried about the angel as anyone, except Dean and Gabriel, but he is confident Cas will return unharmed; he has to be. 

Before Dean can wonder why the youngest archangel would be so in tune with Cas, he and Lucifer appear in the middle of the kitchen, laden with bags. Olle gets up to help them put everything away and Dean asks, “Where is everyone else?”

“Relax Dean,” Gabriel says, turning from the freezer, “Baz took Sam and Beth to get Olle's present.”

“Where is everything else?” Olle wonders then, still putting away dry goods. 

“I dropped decorations for the tree in the library,” Lucifer says, folding their canvas bags and putting them in one bag, on the bottom shelf by the door. “Other decorations are on the map table, and gift wrap is on Beth and Baz's bed.”

Gabriel snickers, “You touched their bed?”

“It doesn't rub off, Gabe,” Lucifer says with a smile, “Or I'd've caught something from you and Olle months ago.”

Olle chuckles, throwing his last empty bag at the smiling archangel and Gabriel just leans, arms crossed, against the refrigerator, smiling. Dean stares between them, shocked by the easy, almost human, way they are with each other; even though none of them are, technically, human. Olle notices him watching them, the amused, shocked look on his face, and says, “Family Dean, friendship; they aren't totally human things.” He pats the hunter on the back as he goes by and, wrapping his arm around Lucifer's shoulders, pulls him toward the door, “I hate stringing lights on the tree; lets go get that done for her before she gets back.”

Gabriel just chuckles, following along behind his brother and his friend. 

Dean sits for a few minutes, thinking about what Lucifer said, and wondering if that has anything to do with Sam and Olle's current problem. He needs to talk to his brother, he thinks as he gets to his feet and, pulling his IV stand along with him, makes his way into the library.

**

“Where are we going?” Sam asks Beth from the passenger seat of Olle's Jag. Balthazar snapped the Jag into the parking lot when Gabriel and Lucifer left, then said something about getting a head start before he was gone. He is alone in Kansas City with Beth and, truth be told, worried she is going to try to talk to him about the situation with Olle.

“You guys totally FUBARed Olle's truck,” she laughs. “I'm going to get him a new one.”

Sam chuckles, “He was so pissed!” 

Beth nods, leaving the Target parking lot, headed across the street to the Dodge dealership. “He said he blew threw angel warding and magickally sealed locks. He was afraid you and Dean were going to start questioning him.”

“Huh,” Sam says unbuckling, “There was so much to do after the dragons, I never really thought about it.”

“Really?” Beth says as they make there way over to pick out a truck. “Cas cornered Olle the next day. Why do you think he wanted to ride back to the Bunker with him?”

“You think he's okay?” Sam asks then, worried about his friend. 

Beth smiles, stopping by a black 3500 to read the paper on the window, “Gabriel would have sensed if he were in any kind of trouble. If something happens, they'll let us know.”

“Hello there,” a tall, blond salesman says cheerily. Beth and Sam both turn, Sam looking down at the man, while Beth just nods her head and goes back to what she was reading. “How can I help you?” he addresses Sam. 

Sam looks between Beth and the man in front of him before he says, “She wants to buy her brother a new truck for Christmas.” He is not sure how Beth intends to pay for or title the truck, but that is what she told him so that is what he is telling the salesman whose name tag says, 'David Roberts.'

David shakes his head and turns to Beth, “Do you know what your brother wants?”

She nods, “What he wants and what's available are two different things. I hate the new transmissions since the 2016. But, my brother is bigger than Sammy here, so his truck has to be big too.”

“Well, the 3500 is the biggest noncommercial truck Dodge makes and our Holiday deals for the 2019's should give you several options,” he says. “Would you like to test drive one?” he looks between them. When Beth nods, he goes on, “If you'll just follow me then, I'll need your driver's license and I'll get a key. Is this the one you're looking at?”

“Come on dimples,” Beth grabs Sam's hand, lacing their fingers together. “Why do you think I brought you?” Sam smiles, letting her lead him while he wonders if the license in his wallet has his real first name on it. 

Beth goes over her choice with a fine tooth comb and, after demanding Sam give it just as much attention, the monster of a truck, and accessories, complete with a big red bow, are scheduled to be delivered to Olle's house in Mission Hills on Christmas Eve, before six o'clock. All she has to do is come back tomorrow and finish the paperwork. 

When Beth closes the door on the Jag, she asks, “Now that that's done, what are you going to do for Olle and Dean?”

Sam had started to wonder that same thing, about an hour ago, but he just shakes his head, “I'm not sure yet,” he admits. “How are we getting back to the Bunker?”

She grins and starts to pray, “Hey Baz, we're done here and ready to come home.”

Before she is finished, the Jag is sitting in its parking spot in the Bunker's garage. Opening Beth's door, Balthazar says, “Olle has everyone working on the tree.”

Sam sees the Impala and, closing his door, asks, “Is Dean okay?”

The angel nods, “Olle has him on fluids, and we've all been short leashed for the next week or so, but he's fine.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asks, instantly worried, Dean would never allow Olle to treat him for anything unless he were really sick. 

“Don't worry Sam,” Beth says as they all head through the garage, toward the War Room. “If anything, it's just a little smiting sickness. Exposure to that much un-channeled Grace can be dangerous, and the angels can't heal it, but, after some rest, he'll be fine.”

As they make their way into the War Room, Sam's steps more insistent, they see Cas stagger through the doorway from the kitchen. Balthazar appears at his brother's side, helping him stay on his feet, as Sam says, “Cas?” 

Everyone's attention is diverted and, as they all rush in from the library, Cas pants out, “Amara is alive and well.”


	48. Chapter 48

Balthazar helps his brother to a seat at the Map table while everyone else files into the room. Gabriel is at his side immediately, hand on his brother's face; the touch is to check for injury as well as reassure himself Cas is alive and, mostly, unharmed. 

Dean is at his side almost as quickly as Gabriel, reaching out, hand to his shoulder, to ask, “What happened Cas? Are you okay?”

Cas looks up at his friend, and shakes his head, “I'm fine. Amara suffered what I can only consider minor injuries from the smiting. She has a message for us,” with that, he opens his shirt to reveal the words he noticed earlier. 

“I am coming,” Kevin reads. 

“Is that a threat?” Sam wonders. 

“Or a promise?” Dean asks, looking ominously around the room. 

“Whatever it is,” Olle says from his spot, arms crossed, leaned against the library doorway, “Cas is not alright.” He shakes his head as he comes into the room, toward the angel, “Come on blue eyes, infirmary, let's go.” Olle watches Gabriel help his brother to his feet and turns to Dean, “You too Winchester, I can take your IV out and most of your labs should be finished by now.”

Olle herds Gabriel, Cas and Dean ahead of him, down the corridor, while he listens to Beth wrangle everyone else back into the library to work on the tree and he smiles; it is nice to be able to be in two places at once. While Gabriel settles his brother on a gurney, Olle moves through the infirmary and down another corridor, where the surgical suites and actual treatment rooms are, into the lab. Once he is satisfied there is nothing seriously wrong with Dean, he makes his way back to the triage room and, after grabbing a few things, over to Dean, sitting on a chair by Cas' bed. 

“Okay Dean,” he says dropping on the bed opposite Cas, “let me take this IV out and you can go talk to Sam while I give Cas a once over.”

“What's wrong with him?” Dean wants to know while Olle pulls his IV out, covering the hole with gauze and a band-aid, “I thought,” he turns to Cas, “you said angels can't get sick?”

“I don't think he has smiting sickness,” Olle says while he checks Cas' temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure. “You were exposed a lot longer than Dean was, so I don't know if it was the smiting or Amara that did more damage to you. What do you think?”

Cas thinks for a moment before he answers, “Her power is consuming; she is greater and stronger than anything I can remember. But, I felt the effects of smiting sickness before I happened upon her.”

“Well,” Olle says sitting back down opposite Cas, “I can give you fluids but your BP and temperature are normal; I don't think you have smiting sickness. What do you want to do?”

Cas gets unsteadily to his feet, “I'm feeling better,” he says, starting to button his shirt. “I think I just need to rest.”

Olle nods, “Okay, but I'm going to keep an eye on you.” Cas nods, shirt closed, and starts to head for the door, Dean at his side; Sam joining them outside the door. 

Gabriel looks over at Olle, “Is he okay?” 

Olle nods, “He'll be fine. I don't think whatever I'm sensing is physical. I just looked at him and knew something isn't right.” Olle starts for the door, “Try talking to him. Get Baz to do it, maybe.”

“Could it be Amara?” Gabriel wonders, walking with him back toward the War Room. “Could she have done something more to him?”

Olle shakes his head, “None of us have any idea what she'll be capable of. We just have to wait and see.”

Gabriel stops Olle with a hand to his arm, “What if something's wrong with him? What if we can't fix it?”

Olle looks down at the archangel, eyes wide in panicked worry. “Then we pray I can,” Olle says seriously, before he hugs the angel. “I won't let you lose him again,” he says quietly. Olle can feel Gabriel shake his head before he releases his best friend and, turning, they both see Sam standing in the corridor. 

“Cas needs to fill us all in on what happened with Amara,” Sam says curtly, before he turns to stalk back down the corridor. 

“Great,” Olle mumbles when Gabriel merely vanishes without a word. Even at a jog, he can not catch up to Sam before he gets back to the War Room so he just takes his time and, when he gets there, takes a seat between Lucifer and Beth. 

“Okay Cas,” Sam coaxes from his spot across the map table, he and Dean on either side of Cas, “tell us what happened.”

“Once I left Dean,” he starts, “the area became polluted with Amara's power, a pervading, impenetrable Darkness lay over everything. It was hours until her Darkness dissipated enough to search the area.”

“Dissipated how, Cas,” Beth asks sitting forward. “Did it seem to spread, mixing with Creation, or did it collapse in on itself?”

“I believe it was spreading,” he answers. “But,” he shakes his head, “to what extent I can't say. There was a great, smoldering crater where the smiting occurred, but Amara was not there. I happened upon another angel, Ambriel; sent from Heaven to asses the damage. We spoke briefly, and decided to search together.” 

“What happened to her?” Lucifer wants to know, pit forming in his stomach. 

“She ventured ahead of me, and I saw a great flash of light, felt the release of her Grace,” Cas answers sadly. 

“Amara consumed her?” Dean asks but everyone already knows the answer. 

Cas shakes his head sadly, “When I confronted her, it was just in time to see Ambriel's vessel fall to the ground and, strengthened by that, Amara seemed to reabsorb the Darkness around us. Instead of killing me,” he says bitterly, “she said she had a job for me and I found myself back here, as you saw me.”

Olle looks around, decorations spread everywhere, the tree half finished, and Cas, looking broken and worse than he did before Olle got him up and out after Rowena's spell. 'What,' he thinks to himself, 'are we trying to do by celebrating?' He looks over and down at Beth, who is watching him, and knows she has a solid answer to that question so he just nods and looks back at everyone around him, “We got more accomplished today than we thought we would everyone. Don't look at this as a set back or a hard truth, it's just information. Luce,” he turns to the angel beside him and, with a pat to the thigh goes on, “got his memories back. We learned Amara is searching for God. We now know the Host is absolutely no match for her strength and will be of no help to us when the time comes.” He gets to his feet, Beth and Lucifer following suit, understanding he is trying to keep everyone together and offering their support, “I won't waste the rest of the day worrying. Why don't all of you get back to finishing the tree? I'll go see what I can find for us to eat, since I'm pretty sure you guys didn't buy anything of substance earlier.” 

“Hey,” Gabriel says, “fudge, cookies, and gingerbread houses are just as much a part of Christmas as the tree!”

“Sure Gabe,” Olle laughs, “because that's what you had in mind when you told Mary she was pregnant.”

“Maybe it was,” he responds immediately. “You weren't there, how do you know?”

“Come on everyone, I want to see the tree,” Beth says excitedly as Olle makes his way to the kitchen with a chuckle.


	49. Chapter 49

Linda comes into the kitchen while Olle is pouring homemade chicken soup out of half-gallon Ball jars, into a pot. “You should come help us with the tree,” she says, leaning on the preptable to watch him work. 

Olle shakes his head, “Beth's in there.”

“It's not the same Olle,” Linda says seriously, “and you know it.”

Turning to take the now empty jars to the sink, Olle completely changes the subject, “Beth must have been really bored this summer to have resorted to canning soup.”

Linda ignores his effort at changing the subject while she helps pull bread and cheese out to make sandwiches, “You and Cas need to talk. You both have the same lost, confused looks on your faces. What happened?”

Olle shakes his head, standing right beside her, helping butter bread, “Nothing I didn't know was coming.”

Linda stops helping and goes to the other side of the preptable so he is forced to look at her or stop what he is doing, “I think I've figured you out, over the past few months. The best way to fix you, is to get you to fix someone else. Why don't you go talk to Cas? He is sitting in there,” she shakes her head sadly, “he looks like a kicked puppy.”

Olle stops her at the door with her name. When she turns, he smiles, “I haven't been mothered in a long time Linda. Thank you.”

**

Olle loads a cart and takes dinner to everyone in the library. He watches Cas move from the table to a leather chair in the corner and, food in hand, follows him. “Heya Cas,” he says dropping into the comfortable leather chair beside the angel. 

“Olle,” Cas says with a nod of his head before he turns in on himself again, thoughtful. 

Olle eats in silence for a while, watching the angel. Cas is quiet and withdrawn, watching everyone around him. Beth, Dean, and Balthazar are talking about what must be further decorations, while they gesture around the room. Linda and Sam are talking; about what, Olle has no idea. Gabriel, Lucifer, and Kevin are huddled around a book, talking while they turn pages to reference something Olle cannot hear. 

When his bowl is empty and the crumbs from his sandwich have made their way into the nooks and crannies of the chair, Olle turns to Cas and asks, “How are you feeling? You look better than you did when you got back.”

Cas nods, “The markings on my chest are still painful, but they've begun to fade.”

“Good,” Olle nods before he gets up to take his empty bowl back to the cart. As he passes by Dean, he gives the hunter a subtle tap to the arm and tilt of the head in Cas' direction before silently praying, “Gabe,” and the angel's head tilts up to see Olle offer him a glance in his brother's direction. With a nod, the angel follows him and Dean back to Cas' little alcove. 

“Hey ya bro,” Gabriel says cheerily as he flops down in Olle's empty seat, Dean dragging a chair over and dropping it right in front of Cas so he cannot flee the conversation.

Olle looks at the three of them, then over at Sam and Linda, before he says, “I'll just let you guys talk.”

Drifting over to stand just out of earshot from Linda and Sam, Olle leans on a table, watching Dean and Gabriel slowly coaxing Cas to talk. Beth is beside him then, Balthazar going over to see what Lucifer and Kevin are still talking about. 

“He gonna be okay?” she asks with a nod in Cas' direction. 

Olle shakes his head, still watching Sam, “I don't know. Something happened. I just hope he'll talk to them about it.”

“He'll talk to Dean; even if he doesn't talk to Gabe,” Beth says quietly. “Now,” her tone changes and Olle looks down to see her turning a stern face up at him, “what's with you and dimples?” she jerks her head in Sam's direction.

Olle chuckles, wondering what took her so long. “You're going to stick with dimples?” it is the only thing he can think to say while he mulls over how to tell her how bad he fucked up. 

Beth grins, “I like it. Besides,” her grin gets wistful, “I'm hoping to get sandwiched between the two of you at some point and I want him to have a firm grasp on the fact that we are different people. Me moaning Sammy at the same time you do could screw the whole thing up,” she quips. 

Olle laughs, with a grin as big hers, “I was wondering how long that was going to take you.” 

Beth shrugs, turning serious, “That's not going to happen unless you tell me what's wrong and we figure out a way to fix it.”

Olle sighs, “Sam got bored waiting for Lucifer. While Luce was in there, Sam was soaking up all his more recent memories and Sam,” but Beth cuts him off.

“Sam decided he wanted to see, try to understand, what we are, and got a head full of you and Gabe,” she says irately. Olle merely nods his affirmation. “What happened when you talked to him about it? He didn't try to kill Gabe while we were out today. He seemed fine; thoughtful, but fine.”

Olle sighs, “We talked, sort of, and he was upset.”

“Why, I wonder?” Beth cuts in, sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

Olle shakes his head at her, look full of returned sarcasm. “He said he needs time to think. He is angry about the brands,” Olle rubs the hand print in the center of his chest unconsciously before dropping his hand into his pocket to rub at the other brand. “He's convinced, first chance we get, before he's even cold, we'll be at it like rabbits.”

“He's mortal, Olle,” Beth says sadly, she knows how hard that is going to be on him one day. “He knows we aren't. He knows, no matter how much you care about him, want him, now; we've gotten over great loves before. We've even gotten over Gabe before,” she says quietly, sadly, leaning in to hug his left side, hand around his waist, too short to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Will you be alright sleeping alone until we get this fixed, or do you want me to kick Baz to the curb for a few days?” It is a serious question, but she says it with humor. 

Olle chuckles, draping his arm across her shoulder and down, around her waist, for a gentle squeeze. “I'm not sleeping with anyone not him,” Olle says firmly. He, they, know the consequences, but Olle is determined to show Sam he is not replaceable, not with anyone. 

“Okay,” she says with an equally decisive nod before she grins, “Let's go hang garland and wreaths along the catwalk and down the stairs!” Before Olle can even process what she just said, she has him by the hand dragging him through the library, down the steps into the War Room. 

Curious about her enthusiasm, Balthazar and Lucifer follow, taking Kevin and, thereby, Linda with them. 

Sam, alone now, moves toward where his brother and Gabriel are talking with Cas, but turns at the sound of Olle's laugh and makes his way into the War Room.


	50. Chapter 50

Dean pulls he chair up closer to Cas and, when Gabriel drops into Olle's empty seat, the hunter is glad the big man excuses himself because he knows Cas will not talk to him while everyone is pressing him for information. He wishes he could find a subtle way to get Gabriel to fuck off, too, but he has watched the youngest archangel and he treats his little brother very much the same way Dean does Sam. So, he knows Gabriel is not going anywhere until they figure out what it is Olle is so worried about. 

“Okay, Cas,” Dean says easily, “you wanna tell us what happened? Something's got you all bent outta shape, worse than you were right after Rowena's curse. Talk to me,” Dean says reaching his hands out in a pleading gesture before leaning forward to brace on his knees so he is even more in Cas' personal space than normal. 

The angel looks uncomfortably between his friend and his brother before he seems to sink back even further into the chair, and his over-sized coat, and shrugs, “I don't know what you're talking about Dean. I told you everything that happened.”

“Details,” Gabriel says. “You told us what happened: Amara was stunned, not injured. Ambriel was killed. You were sent back with a message. You didn't give us any details. What are we missing that has so upset you?” 

“What do you mean?” Cas asks, being deliberately evasive. He has no desire to talk to them about the fact that Amara and Ambriel were both correct, he is expendable. He does not think he can bare to listen to them try to deny what he knows is fact. 

“Cas, man,” Dean says seriously, “talk to me. Please, come on.”

“Don't make me look,” Gabriel says then, almost sadly. “I don't want to do that to you.”

Cas sighs, knowing he has been beaten by his brother's pleading and his friend's sincerity. “Ambriel and Amara made something clear to me, something I've been unwilling to accept for a long time,” he starts, looking confidently between the two of them. “My desire to become more than I am has, in the past, convinced me I have more to offer. I gave in to my feelings of superiority when I aligned myself with Crowley and conspired to open Purgatory. Again, when I was taken in by Metatron, I thought I was the only one who could save Heaven; fix what was broken.” He shakes his head, and looks down at his hands, folded in his lap, to continue. “I have been assured of my place now, at the front of the line. I will go ahead of you,” he looks up then, between the two of them, “to protect you. I see you all as the heroes you are and I see my purpose.”

“Purpose?” Dean says confused. “What purpose?”

Gabriel, though, sees where this is going and cringes when Cas says, “I am utterly expendable. You and Sam,” he says looking up at Dean with confidence and pride, “are heroes of Biblical proportion. Sent to protect and save Creation. Gabriel,” he turns to his brother with passion in his voice while the archangel's eyes brim with unshed tears, “is the maker of the Cage, the Messenger of God, even the Bible calls you a hero brother. You, Balthazar, and Lucifer are strong and whole. None of you can risk your own lives in confrontation with the Darkness before you are prepared to send her away. That is why I was sent to search for her, why I will continue to be your protector until she, or something else, finally destroys me. And I will go gladly, always happy,” he says with an amused smile, looking at Dean, “to bleed, to die, for the Winchesters.”

“Cas, man, no! No way!” Dean says, shaking his head, before Gabriel can speak. It looks like he wants to reach out to the angel, but stops himself, “Would I have spent centuries looking for you in Purgatory if you were expendable? Don't you remember what I said the night we found the angel tablet?” he asks with passionate sincerity, reaching out unconsciously to put his hand on the outside of Cas' thigh. “We're family! I meant that. I needed you then and I still do, man.”

Cas sits up then, leaning out to put his hand in its rightful place on Dean's shoulder, where his brand used to rest, “Thank you Dean,” he says sadly, “for becoming my family when I no longer had one to speak of. That does not, however, alter my state of uselessness. I have always been a foot-soldier, and I am no longer ashamed of my place in Creation.”

Gabriel wants to speak, wants to tell Cas he is not a foot-soldier, was never supposed to be a foot-soldier. He wants to reach out to him and tell him how important he is, but he looks between the angel and the man and sees how lost to him his brother, his soulmate, has become. He squeezes his eyes tight shut, pushing away the tears built up behind them and wipes the few that break free away quickly before he finally breaks their attention away from each other, “You will never be expendable, Castiel, you understand me!” There is a fierce desperation in his voice the two are surprised by, but he goes on without noticing, “I will never, never let you go without a fight! Amara, Ambriel, Heaven are fools.”

“You saved us all Castiel,” Lucifer says and everyone looks up, behind Dean, to see the eldest archangel leaning against the table behind them. “When you blatantly disobeyed Michael and brought Dean back instead of taking his soul immediately to Heaven.” 

Dean looks between the devil and his angel before asking, “What's he talking about Cas?”

“How did you know,” is all the angel responds, looking curiously at his eldest brother. 

Lucifer chuckles, “I knew my brother better than anyone ever could. He wasn't going to risk Dean returning to Earth, finding Olle, figuring out what was really going on. He wanted his vessel, but there was no way he could have saved Dean from Hell. There was no way he was strong enough to pull Dean free of what he became. Demons fight dirty and angels cannot use Grace in Hell. He sent you because he knew you were the only one who could save him. With Legion gone, and Gabriel presumed dead, you were the only one left who was strong enough.”

“Tens of thousands of us laid siege to Hell, it was chance I found him,” Cas shakes his head unbelieving. Lucifer is wrong about him, about Michael's reasoning behind sending Cas and his garrison; he must be.

“When Olle and I find a way to restore your Grace,” Lucifer says solemnly, “you will remember many things. Then, you will see how right we are, how impossible it would be for you, of any of us, to be expendable.” With that, the angel walks away; rejoining those in the War Room still decorating the Bunker for Christmas.


	51. Chapter 51

The next week is spent finalizing all of Beth's ideas for Christmas decorations. Dean, of course, is quick to join her team of Christmas Elves. Before Olle knows what is happening, they have covered every rail, wall, and doorway with lights, wreathes, and garland. When all is said and done, though, it is, somehow, still subtle, elegant, and beautiful. 

Olle makes his way, groggily, into the kitchen one morning in the middle of the December to find Gabriel baking. “What's that smell?” he asks as he pours himself coffee; it is chocolate, but there is something else he can not quite figure out. Probably, he thinks to himself, because he can count the hours of sleep he has had since Sam decided he needed to take a step back on one hand. 

“It's butterscotch,” Gabriel answers ducking down to pull pans from the oven. “I'm making cookies.”

Olle shakes his head, making an unpleasant face, “Why butterscotch? You're ruining the cookies.”

“Shut up,” Gabriel snarks pleasantly. 

Olle laughs outright then, coming over to steal a hot cookie Gabriel just slid onto a cooling rack. “They aren't terrible, okay?” he says around a mouth full of hot double chocolate butterscotch cookie. Gabriel smacks him on the arm with the spatula; he tried to move back to the table, but was not fast enough. Falling back into his seat, back against the wall, he wonders, “Why are you baking cookies? I thought you and Dean were going to make gingerbread and make us all war over whose gingerbread house is the best?”

“We are,” Gabriel says, starting to scoop dough onto the cooled pans. “But we can eat the cookies now.”

Olle shrugs finishing the last bite of cookie and picking his cup back up. The coffee is hot and strong, but it is not doing the job of waking him up. He needs to sleep, he knows he needs to sleep, but he has not had a chance to talk to Sam about what he wants to do and he does not know, at this point, if he is not just punishing himself for not doing a better job of telling Sam about Gabriel. He knows he should relent and let Beth sleep with him or ask Lucifer to knock him out for the night, but he cannot bring himself to because he feels like that will be giving up on Sam and he will not do that until Sam comes to him and tells him he no longer wants to be with him.

The two hunters are moving around each other carefully, but not unpleasantly. They talk about hunting or mundane things and even find time to do yoga and train, always with a group. Olle aches to reach out and touch him, even just in a friendly, nonchalant way, but he abstains; not wanting to turn what time they are spending together awkward or cause Sam to avoid him altogether. 

Gabriel turns from putting the last two sheet pans of cookies in the oven and sees Olle, huge form hunched over the table, hands totally engulfing his coffee cup; he is haggard and exhausted, and Gabriel has a flash of memory: the big man hunched over a rudimentary map, Mark of Cain blazing on his arm, covered in a weeks worth of dried blood and filth while they, Legion, and Cas argue over how best to control and contain the rising horde of demons. “You haven't slept in days, have you?” he asks sadly. 

Olle chuckles, shoulders moving up and down silently, and continues to stare blankly into his coffee, “I'm getting a few minutes here and there. But it isn't just,” he trails off and turns in his seat to lean against the wall, eyes closed; one hand still around his cup, the other hanging limp at his side. 

Gabriel moves over to sit across from him and wonder, “It isn't just what?”

“I just,” he laughs ruefully, “I miss my brothers, my parents, and I can't help but think about what I did to them when I died.” He turns his head to open his eyes and stare at the angel, “I'd rather it was Holy Fire and pain. This constant ache,” he balls his fist in front of his chest, “and impotent worry,” he lets it fall back, limp, at his side, “is worse than anything else.”

Gabriel understands, he spent ages, literally, missing his own brothers. He can not imagine, though, how difficult Olle, and Beth he realizes, have it. The truth of what is out there is wholly unknown to his family and, even if he tried to explain it and they, somehow, understood, they would still, most likely, reject him. “Have you talked to Beth?”

Olle sits up, nodding his head, “Last week, when we went back to the house for a few days, I had to talk to her; she wouldn't let it go. We got nowhere, but really upset, and decided those parts of our past are better left alone. I did her a disservice when she showed up looking almost exactly like we did, but she said she wouldn't change it. I can't decide if it's worse that every time I look at her I'm reminded of the past or that every time I look in the mirror I see one or the other of my brothers.” Olle gets up to refill his empty cup and, turning to lean on the counter, goes on, “Over and over I dream of all the horrible things that could happen to them because they have no idea what's really out there. I have terrifying nightmares I can't pull myself out of where they find out about me and the anger and disgust on their faces,” he shakes his head. “Those are the ones I can't go back to sleep after. Blood and death and pain would be a reprieve.”

“You're going to keep having nightmares,” Gabriel says watching his best friend struggle to follow their simple conversation he is so exhausted. “Was this whole celebrating Christmas thing a bad idea?” he asks quietly.

“Beth is doing just fine,” Olle says shaking his head, dropping back down at the table, “and she wanted the tree.” 

“She has Baz,” Gabriel points out to him. “She is sleeping. Has she even asked you if you're okay?” he asks testily. 

Olle laughs, looking up at the archangel, “She keeps trying to sneak into bed with me. She told me that if I don't get some sleep soon she's going to have Luce beat me unconscious and, then, put me to sleep.”

Gabriel chuckles, he never should have underestimated Beth; she is Olle, after all. Getting up to check his cookies, he keeps talking, “Why won't you let one of us help you? Why won't you tell Sam what's going on?” Gabriel has been trying to avoid getting involved with their domestic dispute, but he can not help noticing the look on Sam's face whenever he sees Olle. Sam wants to fix whatever is between them; Gabriel believes he is just embarrassed by what he did and unwilling, or unsure, how to talk about it. 

Olle is shaking his head slowly and leaning back against the wall with an exhausted sigh, “I'm not using my inability to rest as an excuse to get Sam to come back to me. I'm not forcing his hand in any way. And I'm not sleeping with anyone who isn't him; he has to see he is not replaceable or,” Olle says firmly, “a replacement.”

Gabriel understands, as much as it digs into a part of him he refuses to acknowledge, so he merely lets the subject drop. Watching him slump back into the wall, eyes closed, he hopes, if he is quiet enough, Olle will drift off where he sits and, with someone in the room with him, get a little bit of sleep. It works for a while, but the big man jerks awake from both his nightmare and the touch of Gabriel's Grace attempting to sooth him back to sleep. He starts avoiding him after that, avoiding them all, because of the pity and fury directed at him for his refusal to accept help.


	52. Chapter 52

Three days after Gabriel's conversation with Olle in the kitchen, Sam is jerked awake in full-on panic mode as he is pulled from his bed and slammed into the wall by Heaven's smallest archangel. “What the fuck are you doing with Olle?” he demands of Sam, who is too disoriented to really understand what is going on. As the hunter tries to free his over-sized frame of the grip of the smaller one, the angel goes on, “Can't you see the state he's in? Are you punishing him? How fucking hard is it to talk to him so he has some idea of what the hell you're thinking?”

As Sam comes fully awake, he struggles harder to free himself from Gabriel's grip, and the angel lets himself be shoved across the room so hard he disappears rather than fall against the bed, only to reappear leaned against the table pushed against the far fall. Stepping away from the door, where Gabriel shoved him, Sam looks at the archangel, he looks angry, angelically angry even, and ready for a fight; which just pisses Sam off. “Why is it any of your business Gabriel?” he demands defiantly. He has been trying to find a way to talk to Olle for days, but he is not sure how when he cannot find a moment to speak to him without Gabriel hovering nearby.

Gabriel has wanted to lay into this kid for a while now, but he understands where Sam is coming from and he knows he cannot vent his anger on the hunter or he will find himself going twelve rounds with Olle next and that will mean having a pissed off Lucifer and Beth, both, to deal with. He is pretty sure he can take any one of them alone, even his brother. But, any combination of the three will beat him soundly. Olle and Beth will do it while they yell at him about invasion of privacy and putting his nose in where it is not wanted; at least Lucifer will just give him a long lecture afterward with sad, quiet expressions of devastating disappointment. Keeping all of this in mind, Gabriel answers him, letting his anger fade to show the worry and frustration he feels, “This, contrary to whatever you're probably thinking, has nothing to do with me having ever been his lover. What you're doing is hurting him physically and emotionally; which is just piling on his already mountainous stack of issues.” 

Sam is brought up short, unsure what to say when faced with the angels deflated anger, and easy admission of what they were to each other. Left with genuine worry, he gives himself a moment to think as he comes over to sit on the bed, facing the angel. “What are you talking about?” He is curious, Olle seems roughly the same as he always is: exhausted but functional. Even if, come to think, that exhaustion is a little more palpable than normal and his functionality is running at bare minimum. 

“Are you really so pissed at him and, needlessly, worried about me,” Gabriel wonders angrily, “that you're not seeing what his refusal to accept any kind of comfort not yours is doing to him?”

Sam shakes his head, disbelieving, “You've been hovering around him constantly, ever since we came back from Kansas City. I'm sure that is a great comfort to him,” Sam snarks.

Gabriel sighs, realizing he is going to have to explain something to Sam Olle should be the one to. Turning a chair out from the table, he straddles it and, arms folded over the back, faces the man who, if he would just let himself, could have every possible thing it would take to make Gabriel content in this world. “I'm worried about him Sam, because he wants you so fucking much he won't let himself do anything to jeopardize that by turning to anyone else and asking for help.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks leaning forward, elbows on knees, confused; he wants coffee, it is too early for this conversation. Clothes, he thinks, would be nice too; he is sitting here in just his boxer-briefs. His state of undress, at least, he can remedy and he stands up to pull on a pair of blue sleep pants with superman logos on them and a white t-shirt while he listens to Gabriel talk. 

“He's going to kill me for doing this,” the angel mumbles with a shake of his head before he takes a deep breath and tries to make Sam understand why he needs to make up his mind about Olle once and for all and let the big man know. “You probably haven't figured it out because he does okay when someone is with him; sometimes even just being in the room with him helps. Nightmares, difficulty sleeping, are par for the course with the life you and Dean live; I'm sure. But Olle has lived outside of time, baring witness to, and feeling the effects of, Creation. He has suffered more than anyone, anything, probably even Dad, can understand. He explained to you what he is, how he came to be, and at least some of what he's lived through. Beyond the things he's seen and done, the times he has been destroyed and had to claw his way back into being,” Gabriel says watching Sam intently, trying to make him understand, “he suffers because of the ripped apart nature of his soul.”

Sam drops back on the bed in front of Gabriel, listening with rapt attention. The archangel has known Olle longer and better than anyone but God and, because of the intimacy of their relationship, understands the immortal better than anyone, possibly even God. As much as that fact hurts him, makes his seethe with jealousy, Sam cannot deny his need to soak up any information Gabriel is willing to share. “There is nothing anyone can do about any of that,” Sam reasons. “So, why are you so pissed at me? And why the fuck are you, of anyone, pissed at me for taking a step back? It doesn't make any sense, Gabe, that you're mad at me for being mad at him not telling me how close the two of you are.” Sam sighs, shaking his head at the fact he is having this conversation, “I'm the one who is supposed to be upset, you're in love with my boyfriend!”

Gabriel laughs, at the situation as much as what Sam just said. “You should have stayed in Luce's head a little bit longer; you'd've remembered hearing the argument we had when we finally decided we couldn't be with each other any more.” Sam just shakes his head at that and Gabriel continues, “You do know it's possible to love more than one person at a time, right? It's just not possible to be in-love with more than one person at a time. That's where you keep messing up Sammy,” the angel says shaking his finger the hunter's face. “I love, I'll always love him. He was specifically, intimately, and completely aware of me from the moment of my Creation and, because of that, he knew me when I had no idea who or what he was and that intrigued me,” Gabriel smiles at the memory. He is trying to find a way to make Sam understand the relationship he has with Olle and, glancing at the nightstand, he figures it out. With a tilt of his head at what just caught his attention, he goes on, “We're a lot like you and Dean.”


	53. Chapter 53

Sam looks over at the picture of him as a baby, held tight in his brother's lap as they sit in John's recliner; one of the images found in the old trunk given to them when Missouri, and Mary, helped them stop a poltergeist. “I'm pretty sure,” he deadpans, “whatever you and Olle are to each other, is nothing like me and Dean.”

No, Gabriel thinks to himself, we are not codependent soulmates. Instead, he chuckles, “Every single memory you have, as far back as you've existed, includes, even in the most abstract way, your brother. Everything you've ever done, or been, has been influenced by Dean because he existed before you, he raised you, he was around you, influencing you, from the moment of your birth. And, his existence has been shaped by you because you came into being in front of him. He watched your mother bring you into being, felt you kick inside the womb, and heard her talk about your arrival like it was the best, most influential, thing in his life,” Gabriel's tone and his facial expressions make Sam think he is remembering something Sam cannot touch. “Then you were here. He made you as much as part of his whole world as you could possibly be because you are important to him; because you came into being before his very eyes.” This is how Gabriel feels about Olle, how he felt Olle feel about him as he was combing through the horrors of the immortal's memory, his mind. Genuinely loving someone, he remembered then, is more intense and painful than just being in-love with them; he had spent eons trying to forget that when Castiel abandoned him.

Sam is floored by how intense this analogy is, and how accurate a description of his relationship with Dean it seems to be. This frightens him, too, though, because Gabriel's relationship with Olle seems more intense and emotional now than it did a few moments ago. Gabriel breaks into his thoughts, then, with a quiet admission the hunter can tell costs the angel something. “He's my oldest, best, friend Sam,” Gabriel shrugs, shaking his head, “Before he was anything else. He's always been my best friend and seeing him in pain because he loves you,” the angel shakes his head, voice thick, and Sam watches him rub his thumbs across his eyes; trying not to cry. 

The thought that even Gabriel assumes Olle loves him is as thrilling as it is horrifying. All he can think to wonder is, “Is he okay? What set you off tonight?”

Gabriel pushes off the chair and swings it back under the table. “If he doesn't sleep soon he's going to die. And that won't do anything but make him worse,” he says stalking across the room toward the door. “He has warded his room against angels and Beth.” The angel shakes his head, “Though I don't know how. But I can still hear him,” his tone is sad, as he turns to lock eyes with Sam in the open doorway, “thrashing in the bed and calling out, jerking awake from whatever horrid dream has caught him. Pacing. Clicking away on his laptop. Moving around the room. Night after night,” Gabriel turns and mumbles sadly, “calling your name,” as he goes down the hallway. 

Sam just sits there, half turned on the bed, to stare at the open doorway. He finally glances over at the clock by the bed, only five-thirty, but he knows he will not be going back to sleep. Pushing off the bed, he refuses to make his way to Olle's room just because Gabriel guilted him into it, so he heads for the kitchen, and coffee. 

When he makes it down the steps, Sam wonders if the angel knew exactly what he was doing because the big man is sitting there; coffee in one hand, eyes roaming over the screen of his computer. “Hey Sammy,” he says looking up at the younger Winchester with a smile. “You're up early.”

Sam can see, etched in every line and screaming from the tone of his voice, the weight of exhaustion and something heavier, bigger, and harder to touch. Olle looks more than half dead, skin sallow, eyes hollow, and movements slow like the effort were almost too much, too painful. Sam does not stop, or answer, until his back is to the big man as he fills his coffee cup, “Got startled awake and couldn't get back to sleep.” 

As Sam drops across from his would be boyfriend, he notices Olle's attitude, if not is appearance, has changed. He is sitting straighter, and seems more mentally alert and focused on what he is reading. Sam is struck by what Gabriel said about how Olle suffers because of his soul, and wonders if he just does better overall with others around or if he is making an effort to seem less horrid. Looking up from what he is reading with a soft smile, Olle chuckles, “I know how that goes.” Gently, he asks, “Wanna talk about it?”

Sam shakes his head, turning up his cup, and asks, “What's got you so totally awake in the middle of the night? Amara?”

“Vampires,” Olle says with a shake of his head, “and I'm beginning to wonder if I don't need to police the youngest of Eve's sons.” He hands Sam the screen and goes on, “Tarak isn't this stupid, and I, honestly, don't think it's him, but as organized as they are someone has to know about it.”

Sam reads one of seven articles Olle has open, and wonders aloud, “This is about vampires?”

Olle smiles, “There's a pattern, if you read all seven articles. I think it's recruitment, but I think the massacre in Green Bay is proof they're not part of Tarak or Gideon's houses. We're looking for an independent coven.” Olle turns, exhausted, to lean against the wall, eyes closed, and Sam thinks he almost looks his age, in the same way Cas sometimes sighs and you can feel the breath of Creation coming out of him. 

“So we go to Green Bay,” Sam says still reading through the information. 

Olle shakes his head, “This close to Christmas? I left a message with Gideon's secretary and he's going to call me back. He'll know what's going on. I'm not going to worry about it,” he shrugs, “Gideon will take care of it.”

“You won't worry about it?” Sam says shocked and a little angry. “It's fifteen people!”

“In the grand scheme of things, I'm way more worried about Amara right now,” he says through a yawn, not opening his eyes. “Besides, they're already dead.”

Sam has to stop himself from throwing Olle's all-in-one at the big man's head, and remember what he is; how old he is; everything he has seen, and done, that gives him a 'big picture' perspective Sam has never been able to grasp. “They were important to someone,” he says angrily. “They were someone's family,” he says hoping to strike a cord with his next words, “someone's brother.”

Olle chuckles but there is no mirth in it, “You're a cold son of a bitch, you know that Winchester? Fine,” he heaves himself, still looking exhausted and half dead, to a more focused, less comfortable position at the table and picks up his phone. When the person on the other line answers, he speaks in a language Sam cannot possibly understand and, after a few moments, hangs up and looks up at Sam, “An Irishman, hunter from an old family, Gideon says, and Mike Barnes, have killed eight rogue vampires. The Irishman has worked it all out with the Green Bay Police, and Gideon's firm is paying a blood price. He has a few people on it, says three got away and he's not sure what they were doing.” Olle sighs back into the wall, “He'll call me tomorrow with an update. Do you want to go to Chicago?”

“Blood price?” Sam wonders. “Who's Gideon?”

Olle sighs, rubbing his face with both hands and massaging his temples, “Back when hunting was different, when everyone knew about what could kill you in the dark, some creatures bought their victims. Vampires, Ghouls, even wolves. Tarak was still doing it in the 70's. He would adopt blood slaves, make it all legal so no one was looking for the missing kid or a vanished person.”

“What?” Sam says shocked, understanding now why the police accused them of kidnapping when they returned that boy during the Leviathan mess. 

Olle smiles, but yawns when he starts talking, “They're kept as blood slaves, but they're well taken care of. They're fed, clothed, educated. Many of the oldest vampires are a product of this process, why do you think most of the vamps we kill are young and reckless enough to get caught? Do you want to go to Chicago, or Green Bay?” Olle asks seriously. 

Sam looks, long and hard, at Olle before he answers, “I want to go to bed,” he says standing up and taking Olle by the hand. He tangles their fingers together and pulls, Olle follows him silently all the way to his room. Sam is silent as he pulls their clothes off and wraps himself around the bigger man, who is asleep before Sam pulls the blanket over them.


	54. Chapter 54

When Olle comes awake, he is utterly still and silent for a moment as everything that happened with Sam washes over him. He can feel the hunter beneath him, hear the news playing on the TV and the hum of the tablet in Sam's hand. He just wants to savor this in case he sits up and, once they start talking, it all goes away again. With a slow stretch and a snuggle into the young hunter's stomach, Olle pushes himself up face to face with Sam. With a sleepy, uncertain grin, he asks, “How long was I out?”

A clean shaven, dimpled smile greets him as Sam answers, “About eighteen hours. Are you feeling better?” he wonders quietly. 

Olle rolls away from Sam, onto his back, and stares up at the ceiling; he has a bad feeling suddenly blooming in the pit of his stomach and wonders aloud, “Who told you?”

Sam lays the tablet down in his lap and leans over to stare down into those nearly fathomless hazel eyes, still marred by horrors even Sam cannot imagine. His dimples show again, evidence of how much he missed the bigger man, “It wasn't hard to take one look at you and see something was wrong. I just didn't know exactly how bad it was,” he says. 

Olle shakes his head, “You weren't supposed to feel sorry for me and decide my need for sleep is more important than what you want.” He pulls himself up in the bed and turns to sit cross legged and stare at Sam, “What do you really want Sam?”

Sam turns to put the tablet on the nightstand before he shifts around to mirror Olle. Running his hands through his hair, Sam thinks about how best to answer that question, “I wouldn't have done this if I hadn't made up my mind, Olle.” He is only a bit defensive, and there is a genuine smile on his face when he goes on, “If I wasn't sure, if I hadn't made up my mind, I'd've told you that and asked you to do whatever it took to take care of yourself instead of waiting around on me. Why,” he wonders with a sad, seeking look on his face, “did you let yourself get so fucked up?”

Olle laughs, sheepishly, “It wasn't all you Sam.” He reaches out his hand and cups it around the shape of Sam's thigh, “I'm a fucked up person and it was, is, a lot of things all falling down on me at once. You, us, this,” he chuckles, “Christmas, Beth, Amara, family; I've got a lot of shit swirling around in my head and, with everything else in there, I'm just having a hard time.”

“Why didn't you do something about it before it got so bad I've got archangel's jerking me awake and screaming at me?” Sam wonders. Then, the look on Olle's face changes and he realizes what he just said. Before the bigger man can speak, he goes on, “Don't, please,” he runs his hand up Olle's arm where they are touching and cups his face with a gentle pressure, “don't be angry with him.” He can not believe he is arguing in favor of not unleashing on Gabriel, but he goes on, “Talking to him helped me see how foolish I was being about us.” He shakes his head and pulls his hand away from Olle to go through his hair again, “I understand why you were hesitant about telling me more than you did when I asked about him. I know you didn't lie to me and, if you can forgive me for being too quick to judge, I hope we can get back to where we were again.”

Sam is not sure everything he just said is true. He is still not sure about Gabriel, how he feels about Olle or how Olle feels about him. He hates, with an old anger he thought long gotten rid of, the thought of the two of them together. He knows, with a sick certainty, Olle's immortality and the expanse of Creation stretching before the archangel means they will find each other again because, despite Olle's current attachment to Sam, the hunter will not be around forever. That, more than anything, wiggles jealous and angry in the back of his mind, the knowledge that Olle and Gabriel will always be a part of each others lives, long after Sam is gone. That makes Sam, essentially, a layover in their love-story. But, he revels in Olle like he never has anyone and he is choosing to make the man a main character in the story of his short, mortal existence. 

Olle watches Sam's body language as he speaks, he seems open and genuine. Hearing that Gabriel confronted Sam about his intentions, though, is infuriating and, despite what Sam asks, he will talk to the angel about it, soon. For now, like he told Lucifer weeks ago, he is more than willing to take whatever Sam is offering. He smiles, happily, and pulls Sam into a brief, soft kiss before making eye contact and, grinning, says, “I'd like that, Sammy. I really would.”

Sam relaxes into Olle's kiss and breathes a sigh of relief at his words. He has missed the immortal more than he realized. The hours they slept tangles in one another, before Beth came in to bring him food and ask if he wanted her to stay while Sam moved around, had been the best sleep he had gotten in weeks. He had taken the food, with thanks, and, asking her to bring him his tablet, declined her offer to stay. She had smiled and, when returning with his computer, assured him he could move around the room without disturbing Olle's rest before she went away again with a happy smile and a soft, grateful kiss to his forehead. 

Olle lays himself out on the bed and, stretching through a yawn, asks, “Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, right?” At Sam's smiling nod, he continues, “So, how about we get up, throw these,” he grabs a handful of sheet, “in the wash and take a shower? Then, we sleep for another six or eight hours so we're well rested for the marathon holiday everyone's got planned.”

Sam smiles, nodding, he had spent most of the day researching and watching Olle sleep; it was, oddly, exhausting. Sam stretches out, half on top of Olle, to plant a slow kiss on his pouty lips, “That sounds perfect.” 

Olle grins and rolls himself on top of Sam for a deeper kiss, once again taking possession of the hunter's mouth, before he slides down the bed and starts to pull at the sheets. Sam rolls around, tugging the corners free, and lets himself be pulled down the bed into Olle's arms. As the doctor reaches down to take Sam's mouth again, the hunter smiles. When they break apart panting, Sam startles him into a laugh with a playful wack to the side from one of the pillows. Laughing, Olle chases him up the bed while Sam scrambles to get away. Only after much more laughter, and kissing, interspersed with the odd pillow fight, do they make it into Olle's glass shower. Soapy bodies sliding together under the hot water, they make out until their skin is wrinkled and the water starts to turn cold. After making the bed, they fall into it and nestle themselves together in a tangle of limbs and drift off to sleep.


	55. Chapter 55

Christmas Eve, Sam jerks himself awake from a nightmare he has not had in almost a decade, Dean being ripped apart by Hellhounds only, this time, it is Olle's giant form screaming Sam's name and begging while Amara, not Lilith, watches with a satisfied smile. Sam is not even sure how he knows what Amara looks like, one far away cell phone video not enough to give him such high definition detail. As he looks around frantically, Olle is there. The big man is spooned up behind him, Sam pulled into his granite like chest as Olle wraps both his arms around him and soothes him quietly, “Hey Sammy, hey, I'm right here and it's okay. Not real, okay. Whatever it was, it can't be real when you're right here with me; I promise.” Olle's face is buried in Sam's hair, nose pushed right up behind his ear, so his breath is ghosting through his hair and tickling his face as he starts to press soft reassuring kisses to Sam's neck. 

Olle relaxes his iron grip as Sam turns himself around in the bigger man's arms and nuzzles into his chest like a sleepy child. Resting his face in the curve of Olle's neck, Sam sighs and whispers, “How did it take me so long to get here? Why did I have to meet you right when we found the one thing, the only thing, that could hurt you?” Sam breathes him in as Olle rubs slow, reassuring circles into Sam's back with both hands. The Stanford educated hunter wonders how he could have been so stupid as to waste time they probably do not have being jealous of Gabriel when they will all be dead before the angel has a chance to take Olle away from him. Amara is God's sister, he thinks, and there is no way a couple of upstart archangels and two humans are going to find a way to stop her when God had to literally mold Creation into something he could use against her. He snakes his arm around Olle's waist and tries to pull them even closer together while he breathes in the rich scent of fresh turned black earth and crisp fall leaves that is Olle. With a contented sigh, Sam darts his tongue out and runs it along the big man's collar bone, tasting the tangy petrichor flavor of Olle's skin before he bites down sending shivers through the immortal. 

The hands on Sam's back drift apart, one going up to tangle in Sam's hair while the other drifts down to squeeze the firm round cheek of his ass. Sam smiles into the skin of Olle's neck and slowly starts to work his way to the man's mouth with long laves of his tongue and short, nibbling kisses along his neck and jaw. Olle laughs, deep in his chest, when the two men are eye to eye and asks, “What can I give you Sam? All that I have, take it; it's yours.”

Sam takes his mouth in an inflamed kiss, licking into him until the stale taste of sleep and his own terror are gone and, gasping, he pulls back just enough to say, “I want to be inside of you.”

Olle has been waiting for weeks to hear Sam say those exact words. He grins, pulling Sam into another searing kiss, before he pulls back to say, “Yes, please!”

Sam laughs, grinning before he kisses Olle again. While they kiss, Sam adjusts his position, rolling Olle on his back and sliding more firmly between the bigger man's thighs. Olle pulls himself up onto the pillows and Sam follows him, never breaking away from his mouth, so they can be more comfortable; Olle's height is forever a challenge. Sam is thinking, as he pulls away from Olle's mouth and starts to trail kisses and teasing, nibbling licks along the man's skin. He denied Olle this for weeks, despite the man's blatant attempts to get fucked, and Sam understands, now, why he was so reluctant. Letting Olle fuck him, letting that bartender in Philadelphia fuck him, is not about surrender; it is about taking what he wants. He gets to cum and they get to do all the work. Now, though, he wants to give Olle the kind of pleasure he has always taken from the other man. 

**

Beth is in the kitchen making coffee when Lucifer comes in, he stops in the doorway, not coming down the steps, and looks like he will flee, any second now. “What's up Luce?” Beth wonders, coming over to lead him down the steps and into a seat. 

“There's,” he hesitates before shaking his head and going on, “there's something wrong with Gabriel.” 

She is immediately on guard, “What happened? Where is he?”

“No,” he reaches out to calm her as she is turning for the door, “he is emotionally unwell. I,” he lets go of Beth and gets up to pace while he speaks, tone full of uncertainty and confusion, “I don't even know if that's correct. I don't know if I should be talking to you about it. I went to speak to Olle, but it would seem he and Sam are reconciling their relationship and it felt inappropriate to interrupt them. But he is quietly, frantically burying himself in research downstairs and he has sealed the door to the library and won't talk to me. He yelled through the wood once, to tell me to leave him alone so he could work. I thought at first of going to Cas, but, until we can help him remember his true connection to Gabriel, he has no way to know, to remember, how best to approach him.”

“Okay Luce,” Beth says, stepping in front of him to take both of his hands in hers and guide him back to the table. She goes over to the machine and gets them both coffee before she drops across from him at the table and starts to talk. “You came to me, I'm guessing, because you know I can push past whatever he's used to seal the door. I'll go talk to him.”

“Thank you,” the archangel says simply.


	56. Chapter 56

Beth can feel the power of the seal on the library door as she gets off the elevator. She sighs, he is not going to be happy with her when she goes in there. Trying to be diplomatic, she knocks on the door and calls to him, “Hey Gabe, what's going on? Did you find something?” When there is no answer, she takes a deep breath and tries again, “Hey Gabe, man, you can let me in or I can come in; your choice.” The door comes open with a low click and Beth chuckles before going in and closing it behind her. 

Going through the library, she finds him in the back where his one table of research has, over the past month, turned into three tables of scattered information and a fourth where he sits now, clicking away at a laptop. When she stops behind him, she sees he is trying to hack Chuck's publisher and, shocked, asks, “Where'd you learn to do that?” She neglects to ask why he is even bothering, and waits for an answer. 

“Did you know?” Gabriel asks her harshly, reaching over to thump a huge pile of pages in front of her before going right back to what he was doing. 

Beth picks up the pages and realizes what they are, that they should not exist. She asks, confused, “Where'd you get these? They shouldn't exist. Chuck,” and then she remembers what she should not know, something usually never more than hinted at in a world Balthazar created, “Chuck has to be dead or Kevin never would have become a prophet.” She knows if He were going to reveal Himself, He would have done it already; they will get no more help from God; with Amara or anything else. 

“So Cas came back right after Chuck touched him, I wound up in Oz, the guys landed on that plane? Cas just keeps coming back, I'm sitting here, Baz,” he is getting increasingly angry and incredulous, “you're,” he turns from the computer to gesture at her with one hand and picks up the pages with the other, shaking them in her face asking, “How are these even real? Is this what really happened?”

Beth takes them away from him and flips through them, reading a bit of every fifty or sixtieth page and, after a few minutes, shakes her head, “It seems to be a fairly accurate telling.” She puts them down and asks, “Where'd you find them?”

Gabriel shrugs, “I was looking for Amara. It was an accident really,” he turns the computer toward her and she takes it. 

With a few clicks, she gets him into the records of Chuck's publisher before she goes through other open information and finds the digital copies of the Supernatural series by Carver Edlund and sees it continues past Sam's jump into the Cage, all the way to Baby being engulfed in the first wave of the Darkness. The series seems to end there, though, and she turns to look at the angel, frightened, hopeful look on his face, and she wishes he were down here freaking out about Olle and Sam like she initially thought. She reaches out to cup his face and leans in to kiss him, soft and comforting, “If He did write this,” she smiles when he scoffs as her uncertainty. “Okay,” she smiles, “He stopped writing right before you got back, right before Olle and I became main players. He's running or He's hiding or He's plotting. No matter what He's doing, you're not going to find Him if He doesn't want to be found. Have you seen Him, in two thousand years, Gabe, have you seen Him? Because I haven't, not since before I wound up in Hell.”

“What,” he asks sad and unsure now, “what do I tell the others? What do I tell everyone else?”

She shakes her head, “You tell them you were trying to drown out the sound of Sammy and Olle making up. You tell them you were down here pouting because the love of your life is with someone else.” She wants to kiss him again, puts her hand in the center of her chest and pushes into the scar there, rubbing until it hurts. She wants to ask him why Olle, why not her, and she sighs, shaking her head at the stupidity of that when she knows why; she knows she is not real, not the way Olle is, and she lets it go as Gabriel starts to talk. 

“Since when do you advocate lying?” he wants to know. 

“It's not lying, Gabe,” she says seriously. “It's omitting certain truths to avoid needless worry. Whatever He's doing, there is nothing we can do about it. We tell Olle and we tell him what we've decided to do.”

“Which is nothing,” Gabriel says. 

Beth nods, smiling, “And the three of us decide what to do about it then. We, maybe, tell Luce, but you want to tell Cas and Sam and Dean who you think, you don't even know, who you think Chuck is, was? What purpose will that serve?”

“You know,” Gabriel says pointing at her. “I can tell by the look on your face, you know. How long have you known? How do you know?”

Beth shakes her head, “I know Rob Benedict plays Chuck, who is God, on the Supernatural TV series in the real reality Balthazar created when he pushed Sam and Dean into the television episode to hide them from Raphael.”

“Maybe Dad's hiding there,” Gabriel says. “Maybe we can get to him,” he starts but Beth shakes her head and, reaching out to cup his face again, turns him to make eye contact and quiet his excited postulation. 

“It's where I'd be if I were Him,” she says. “But looking for Him when He doesn't want to be found is useless. We keep going as we were, and we forget about this,” she says seriously. “He won't help us any more than He already has, and we can't expect it or we'll get complacent waiting for Him to fix it,” she says harshly, trying to push every ounce of certainty she has into her words, because the truth is, Rob would, maybe, help them, but Chuck, God, won't.

“So I just let it go?” he asks. “How can I do that?”

“It's easier than you'd think to give up hope when you realize it wasn't real to begin with,” she says reaching for the computer. She saves the digital copies of the books, sends them to herself along with the information Gabriel found and then obliterates any evidence they were ever on the computer. Once she is sure he cannot find any of this information again, she gives him back the laptop and, standing, says, “Luce is worried about you, go talk to him,” before she makes her way out of the library. 

In the elevator, headed back for the main floor, she prays to God, “You've never made me clean up Your mess before. You've never asked me to fix something You broke. Why do this to him? If You were going to help us, more than by just giving him back to me, You'd've done it already. What are You doing?” She is confused and worried so the first thing she does when the elevator stops is make for Olle's room. If he and Sam are still at it like rabbits, well, that is just too bad.


	57. Chapter 57

Olle is letting Sam set the pace and it has been achingly slow. The hunter has explored every millimeter of his body, and it hums where Sam has laved, bitten and sucked. Olle cannot help but chuckle breathlessly, “You really were serious when you said there wasn't a part of me you didn't want to lick, bite, or suck.” 

Sam's answer is to slide slowly up the bigger man's body and lick into his mouth, pulling away with Olle's bottom lip between his teeth. “I could absolutely eat you alive,” Sam says, voice rough and deep with arousal.

Olle laughs, deep and happy, “How very Ghoulish of you.” 

Sam grins up at Olle from the middle of his chest, “Just a bit,” he says before biting down on Olle's peck, just the right side of painful, before he laves the skin with his tongue then continues down the big man's body to scrape his teeth across Olle's hip and settle on his knees between his thighs; picking up the bottle of lube he pulled from the nightstand almost an hour ago. Olle pulls his knees up in anticipation and Sam chuckles, turning his head to scrape his teeth across Olle's knee before pressing a kiss there. “I haven't done this in a long time,” Sam says seriously as he starts to slick his fingers. “Let me know if I'm going to fast.”

Olle nods, grinning, “Don't be nervous Sammy. I'm nothing if not a bossy bottom.”

Sam laughs, leaning forward again to kiss Olle senseless while he smooths his finger across the bigger man's perineum and slips between his cheeks. Olle shivers and heaves a happy sigh as Sam settles back to watch the immortal's face as he slips one finger inside him to the first knuckle. “You okay?” Sam asks looking up at Olle while he remains perfectly still. 

Olle laughs and it vibrates up Sam's arm, then he wiggles down on Sam's hand just a bit before he grins, “I'm awesome Sammy.” He groans deep in this throat as he runs both hands down his body, one cupping his balls and the other giving himself a few slow, firm tugs, “Anxious, baby boy, that's all.” He leans his head up a little to stare down at Sam but it falls back on the bed with a grunt when the hunter leans forward to lick the bead of precum he just milked from his cock while he slides his finger all the way in; curving it up in search of Olle's prostate. 

Sam continues his glacial pace, moving his one finger in and out of the big man while he massages his balls and uses his tongue to massage and suckle the head of Olle's cock. The breathy moans and frustrated grinding down on his hand finally make him stop his ministrations to look up at Olle and say with a smile, “Anything you have, that's what you said. Time, Olle, is what I want and I'm going to take it. Don't be in such a hurry.”

“Hurry?” Olle chuckles, ending on a groan as Sam sucks the head of cock back into his mouth and starts to rub his finger over the big man's prostate again. A few minutes later, Olle is panting and whines when Sam pulls totally away to slick his fingers again and, finally, push two inside Olle and start to work him open. 

“Oh fuck Sammy, please,” Olle whines, chasing Sam's hand as he pulls totally away and sits up on his knees. 

Sam smiles, flushed with arousal, voice a gravel whisper as he adds more lube to his still sticky hand and uses it to slick himself, “Roll over for me Olle,” he pants out, forcing himself to slow his hand as it slides over his swollen cock. He chuckles and brings his dry hand down hard on the other man's ass when Olle gets in position; he feels a jolt of arousal wash through him when Olle grunts and pushes back into the pain. “I'll have to remember that for later,” Sam says rubbing his hand across the bright red mark he just left on Olle's ass before he grabs the immortal's hip and pushes in to the hilt in one long, steady thrust. 

Olle grunts and drops to his elbows as he spreads his legs, adjusting Sam's angel, once the hunter is fully seated inside him. It feels amazing, everything he has wanted for weeks, the stretch and burn pulsing through him in a way that lets him know it will turn the corner from mildly uncomfortable to totally amazing faster than he can think. 

Sam wipes his filthy hand on the clean sheets before taking a firm hold of Olle's hips and pulling out until just his head remains inside before snapping his hips forward hard and fast. This is what Sam wanted to do for Olle, listen to him mewl and grunt his pleasure into the musky air around them while he pounds into him, adjusting the angel until Olle screams, “Ah, fuck yes, Sammy! Fuck! Right there, Sammy! Right there!” and starts to push back harder and harder into every increasingly brutal thrust. 

Sam's hands are digging bruises into Olle's hips and his merciless thrusts are pushing both men up the bed until Olle has both hands on the wall, because he has no headboard, bracing as he pushes back into every thrust. The head of Sam's cock is pounding into his prostate with each thrust and Olle feels himself start to tighten as heat pools low in his belly and he growls, “Fuck, Sammy! Right there! Harder! I'm almost there!”

Sam has no idea how, every muscle bow tight and straining with exertion, but he increases the force of his thrusts and, moments later, feels Olle clench around him, hard, as the bigger man releases a guttural growl, almost like a battle cry, and cums without Sam laying a hand on his cock. Knowing he did that, mad the immortal cum untouched, pushes him over the edge. With a deep thrust and a satisfied groan, Sam cums; using hard shallow movements and Olle's still spasming hole to milk himself dry. Exhausted, he drops over Olle's back, panting, bodies still locked together. 

Olle slowly straightens his legs out and Sam slides with him until the hunter is spread across the immortal's back; head resting between his shoulder blades while they both catch their breath. When Sam slips free of him, Olle feels warm cum start to trickle out, down his perineum, and pool on the underside of his balls and he chuckles, exhausted and happy. 

Sam rubs his hands up and down Olle's sides before asking, “What's so funny?” as he kisses his boyfriends back. 

“We've ruined the clean sheets and I need another shower,” he says rolling over slowly, Sam still on top of him. He runs his hand through Sam's hair and uses it to pull him into a slow, savoring kiss. 

Just as he is about to suggest they share that shower, though, a forceful knock comes from the door and Beth's voice from the other side, “Sorry, guys, this is important. Olle, open the door.”


	58. Chapter 58

Reaching down to the foot of the bed, Olle grabs the sheet and calls out, “It's open,” as he covers them both from the waist down and pulls Sam back into his chest as the door opens. 

“What's wrong?” he wants to know when Beth comes in and, closing the door behind her, pulls a knife out of her pocket; with a nick to the tip of her index finger, she draws a glyph on the door. When she is finished, she drops in the chair by the bed, propping her feet up on the ottoman to settle her laptop across her lap and open the lid. 

“Lucifer came to me this morning,” she says not looking up as she clicks away. “Gabriel had locked himself in the library, sealed the doors to the research room he's in, and,” here she stops, looking up at Sam, and goes on in ancient Egyptian, “He found Chuck, still writing, and knows the prophet must be God. I told him to put it away, not think about it, because there is nothing we can do if it is Him. He does what He wants at His own pace. He won't help us.” She gets up to hand him her laptop, open to the first book that takes place after Sam comes back from Hell; it is just like the TV show in Balthazar's alternate reality. 

“Fuck,” Olle sighs. “This is just what we need,” he says in English, clicking back to scroll through the posts and realize the stories end with the release of the Darkness. 

“What's going on?” Sam wants to know, looking from one of them to the other expectantly.

“Gabriel thinks he's found God,” Olle answers before Beth can tell him she was not, in fact, going to mention that piece of information to anyone else. 

Sam chuckles disbelieving, “In the Men of Letter's Library?”

Beth smiles, “No, but where isn't important.”

Olle sighs, reaching out to give her back the laptop and she gets up to grab it while he looks at Sam, “He likes Gabe, more than any of the rest of them; I sometimes think. Good parents, He, tries not to pick favorites, but He's spoken to Gabriel more than any of the rest of them.” Olle shrugs, letting go of the laptop while Beth makes her way back to her seat. “I don't know why; maybe it's because he remembers. But, if it is God, Gabriel was meant to find what he did and there's nothing any of us can do about that.” Olle turns to look at Sam seriously, “I don't want to get anyone's hopes up,” he says. “God is going to do what He wants how He wants and we just need to keep going not expecting His help.”

Sam shakes his head, “Why don't you think God will help us?”

Beth snorts, “When has He ever done anything, that you know of, to really help you? Help any of us? His help is sporadic at best and, more often than not, more 'long term planning' than actual 'need it now' help.”

Olle nods agreement with Beth, but looks at Sam and tries to give him a better answer, “He has given us back the best of the best to do battle with the insatiable destruction that is Amara. She is, oh so slowly, destroying every soul she comes in contact with, but she is seeking Him. He will not make Himself known to us because that will open us all up to her direct assault.”

“It isn't just that He won't help us, Sam,” Beth says seriously. “It's that He can't. Not without putting us all in much more danger than we are already in.”

“She wants to confront Him,” Sam starts to reason out. “She wants to know where He is, know He's watching. Watch Him bare witness to her destruction of everything He created.” 

“She'll leave us for last,” Olle says, “but she'll keep us all with her, make us watch while she destroys everything.” 

Beth chuckles bitterly, closing the laptop, and looks up at Olle, “How do you think she'd do it? Do you think it would be everything else, then us, then Him or do you think we'll still be here as long as He's alive?”

“I think,” Olle says stretching in the bed, arm still mostly around Sam, “I'd rather not think about it. It's Christmas Eve, what time is it anyway?” He looks over at his clock and sees it is nearly noon, “We're going to shower and, then, I've got to go pick up your present,” he tells Beth with a mischievous grin.

“Have you wrapped anything yet?” she asks standing up, headed for the door. 

“Of course not,” Olle snorts. “Have you met me?”

Beth laughs and stops in front of the door, she reaches out and places her previously cut finger in the center of the glyph; with a single mumbled word Sam cannot understand the blood vanishes, her finger is healed, and she opens the door. “Don't take too long,” she says before the door closes behind her. 

“What kind of magick was that?” Sam wants to know as the bigger man kicks off the sheet and makes for the other side of the bed, closest to the bathroom.

“Probably the same thing Gabriel used on the door downstairs,” is all Olle says, reaching for Sam's hand so they can head to the shower. When the hunter slides off the side of the bed and takes Olle's hand, the immortal sling shots him toward the bathroom as he turns to pull the sheets from the bed, “Get the shower started Sammy, I'll be right behind you.”

**  
Coming into the kitchen together later, laughing, the two lovebirds notice Dean and Gabriel standing over the stove together and the overwhelming smell of chocolate filling the air. When the two turn from the stove, Gabriel stops smiling and, with a mumbled excuse, vanishes. Dean, pouring hot fudge into a pan, looks up to see what drove the angel away and sighs, glad Sam looks happy again, but feeling sorry for Gabriel all the same. 

“You look better,” Dean says to Olle, noticing the subtle stop in his movements as Gabriel disappears. “You were dead on your feet for days.” He turns back to the stove to sit down the empty pot and says over his shoulder, “Hey Sammy, he finally let you come up for air?” 

Sam has made his way to the coffee pot, pouring two cups, and laughs, “Yeah Dean, Merry Christmas to you too, jerk.”

“Bitch,” his brother responds out of habit. 

Olle chuckles, taking his coffee from Sam and starting to mix Splenda and half-and-half into the dark liquid, “You boys want to put that on your Christmas card for next year?” When they both grin, Olle just drops beside Sam at the table, and looks up at Dean, “You wanna come with me and Luce later? I gotta get Sammy's gift and go pick up Beth's as well.”

“Last minute Christmas shopping?” Dean chuckles, thunking down cereal, milk, and bowls. “Sure,” he grins at his brother, “I wanna know what you got Sammy anyway.”

“After breakfast then,” Olle says, pouring Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his bowl.


	59. Chapter 59

Olle and Dean get off the elevator at the library while Sam continues down to the training room; he and Cas are supposed to be doing yoga. 

Dean follows behind Olle as they make their way into the research room Gabriel is using. The immortal comes up behind the younger archangel and, to Dean's amazement, smacks the distracted Trickster in the back of the head. “Learn to mind your own business,” Olle says jovially as the angel looks up startled. 

Gabriel scoffs, once the shock has worn off, “Yeah, right. You look well rested and well fucked, you're welcome.”

“Whatever you said,” Olle is being serious now, “he said it got through to him. Thanks Gabe.” The archangel nods, waving it off, and going back to what he was reading. 

Olle looks up, then, and over to Lucifer, who has been not so subtly watching their exchange, “Luce, you wanna help me and Dean go get Beth's gift and grab some stuff from the house?”

“Of course,” he says, satisfied Olle and Gabriel are doing well. He puts down his book and asks, “Where to first?”

“Let's just head to the house first, Beth has forbidden me from being there after two so I need to grab that stuff first,” Olle says. Lucifer nods and, in the blink of an eye, the three are standing in Olle's kitchen. 

“So,” Dean wonders, “what did you get Sam?”

“Am I a shit boyfriend if I admit I haven't bought him anything?” Olle asks as the hunter and the angel follow him out, across the snow dusted yard, toward the forge. 

“Depends on what you're going to give him,” Dean answers. “Sex doesn't count,” he says seriously. “You'd sleep with him anyway, so it's not a gift.”

Olle laughs, while Lucifer just watches their interaction trying to learn human behavior from two men who should never be held up as a standard of normal behavior. “I'm giving him the blade I made with Cas' blood; spoiler: You're getting one too,” Olle says. “But,” he goes to the shelf and pulls down a small wooden box, handing it to Dean, “I made him this.”

Dean opens the box, inside is a bracelet, nearly an inch wide, engraved with protective symbols, “It's beautiful,” Dean says seriously, taking it out to examine each symbol. “I don't know all of these,” he admits looking at Olle for an explanation. 

Olle comes over and points to each grouping of symbols, “It protects against ghosts, even ghost possession; prevents manipulation by magick, even demonic magick, so no more getting thrown across rooms by witches and demons.” He turns the bracelet over to show Dean the underside, “The Enochian protects against certain forms of angelic magick. He can still be healed and can still travel with us, but, again, no more getting thrown across the room or locked in place and, I doubt it could stop Luce or Gabe, but it prevents invasion of the mind.”

Lucifer has moved to stand behind Dean and look as well. “Is it true Damascus?” the angel asks; knowing what historians call Damascus is not Damascus. 

Olle smiles, “It is. And it's etched with chemical salts so, along with the iron core, it is demon and ghost proof. I filled the engraving with silver so most of the Children of Eve can't touch it either and,” he points to the small boarder along the outside of the entire bracelet, “this should make it more difficult for them to overpower him.”

“I like it,” Dean declares. “If you two break up,” he chuckles, “I get this when he tries to give you back all your shit back.”

Olle laughs, “Fair enough.” He takes the box from Dean and grabs the two finished demon blades before they head inside, upstairs, through the library and into the office. 

“What's next?” Dean asks, dropping onto the overstuffed plumb colored love seat.

Olle pulls the bookcases out from the behind the desk and unlocks the hidden doors, “I've got to get a book.”

“Olle,” Lucifer says then, “I'm going downstairs, to the armory, I'll be back in a few minutes.” 

“Okay,” Olle says, curious, but willing to wait and speak to the archangel when they are alone. 

Bye the time Olle has retrieved his book, hidden away in a locked cabinet and locked inside an old box, Lucifer has returned and is sitting opposite Dean on a white sofa, reading one of Olle's many journals. When the bookcases are back in their rightful place, obscuring the door, Dean looks up from his phone and asks, “Where to now?”

Olle smiles, this is what he has been waiting to show Dean, “We have to go pick up Beth's gift.”

“Cutting it kinda close,” Dean says standing up, “aren't you?”

Olle chuckles, “It's been ready for months, I just haven't been in the mood to go pick it up.”

“You've been busy,” Lucifer says. “Where are we going, exactly?”

Olle forces a thought at the angel and he nods before moving them all to where they need to be. 

Dean takes stock of where they are and knows now why Olle insisted he dress for cold weather and snow. “Where are we?” he asks looking around at the narrow streets, old buildings, early twilight, and nearly four feet of snow that is still falling heavily around them where they are standing on the sidewalk. He pulls his coat tighter around himself and digs in his pockets for the gloves Olle told him to make sure he had. 

Olle smiles, pulling his gloves on and sliding a knit beanie over his head, “Just outside Helsinki. We're going over there,” he gestures across the street to a two-story house with an iron gate. 

“Who's house?” Dean asks as they head across the empty street. The building is dark in a neighborhood Dean sees is full of brightly lit homes. 

Going through the gate, digging in his pocket for the key, Olle tells him, “It was my parents' home before they died. I've been having some work done to it.” 

He opens the door and Dean can see ladders and drop cloths as the smell of fresh paint hits him and he follows the immortal through the dark house, into the garage. When Olle flips the light on, Dean knows what they have come for. Sitting in the middle of the empty garage is a motorcycle. He chuckles, going over to get a better look, “She's gonna love this!”

Olle laughs, “I keep telling her, if she wants to be taller I'll cut her throat, but she keeps waving me off so,” he shrugs. 

“It's not an exact replica of your motorcycle,” Lucifer says from where he is standing in the doorway. 

Olle shakes his head, “I bought that brand new. This, I found it on a hunt back in July.”

“The vampires,” Lucifer cuts in, remembering that Olle killed a nest of eight vampires and, after the bodies were disposed of, he and Gabriel helped the immortal raid the old house they were in. 

Olle nods, “I wasn't sure it wouldn't be junk, but I shipped it to the guys who did my rebuild and had it delivered here when it was finished, back in October.”

Dean looks the bike over, it may need a bit of adjustment for Beth to ride comfortably, but he is sure she will love it. What is not chrome, is leather and the tank is black with silver runes and green leaves. Dean is startled out of his examination, then, by Olle dropping a pair of black leather saddlebags across the seat. “That it?” the hunter asks. 

“No,” Olle says. “I've got to do one more thing and then we can head back to Kansas.”


	60. Chapter 60

Heading back into the kitchen, Dean notices a folder on the counter and Olle goes to it, pulling out a stack of paperwork. “What's that?” he wants to know. 

“I told you,” he says flipping though the forms as he picks up the pen left with the envelope, “I've been having some work done. I'm giving the house to a friend. He got married a few years ago; his step son is about to be eight and they have recently adopted a set of twins. They live with his parents, sister, and her daughter; they need a place bigger than their four bedroom apartment and this place,” he gestures around with his pen, “has eight bedroom. It was my father's grandfather's house. I want someone who'll get plenty of use out of it to have it.”

“So you're just giving them a house?” Dean wonders. 

Olle nods, finished signing the documents and starts sliding them back into their envelope, “I'm not ever going to use it again, and Kalle and Lari can't afford it on their own. Why not?”

“How fucking rich are you?” Dean wonders then. Olle spends money like it is water and he is giving away a house worth a couple of million, at least. He has watched the immortal give money to every homeless person he sees and knows he donates to practically every worthy cause out there. 

Olle laughs, “I just seem to keep making it. Beside,” he says as they go back into the garage, “what am I supposed to do with it? The way the house was built, the warding and protections worked into it, it will last as long as the Bunker; maybe longer. I have access to the Bunker again, too. Beth and I are working on consolidating all of our weapons, libraries, and artifacts. I can pay my bills and their bills,” he tilts his head at Lucifer, “and your bills for the next hundred years on just what I've earned or inherited as Mikhail. I may be used to a certain higher standard of living, but, nine times out of ten, money has never helped me solve a problem. I never realized I had so damn much of it until you all started needing it for everything.”

Dean chuckles, “How long ago was that?” 

Olle merely shrugs and, with a nod at Lucifer, they are all in the Bunker's garage now. Beth's motorcycle is parked beside Olle's and Lucifer hands Olle the box he was carrying, containing the book he retrieved from his office. As they all start to head for the door, Lucifer says, “Olle, can I talk to you for a moment, please?”

“Sure Luce,” he says slowing down to sit the box on top of the Jag as Dean continues on toward the steps down to the Bunker. 

“I know you intend to give Dean the case of weapons found in my crypt,” he starts. “They were Cain's, so it is right that Dean have them, but,” he stops, unsure if he is doing the right thing. 

“But what, Luce?” Olle wonders gently. 

“Would it be appropriate for me to give him something as well?” Lucifer wonders. 

“Of course, if that's what you want to do,” Olle says happily, smiling and reaching out to put his hand on the angel's shoulder. “There's nothing wrong with that, why are you nervous about it, though?” he wonders backing off to look at him curiously.

“I'm afraid the others will be angry with me, but I'd like to give him this,” Lucifer says shyly, and, with a thought, Olle is looking at Michael's archangel sword. Olle just stares, shocked, before reaching out to take it and Lucifer goes on, “I know I shouldn't have taken it, but it was right there beside him when I,” he shakes his head, turning around to walk toward the stairs before he stops. 

Olle examines the sword, beautiful and radiating power, but he notices the blade is dirty, coated in dried blood and Grace, and he realizes what Lucifer is talking about. “Did he,” he looks up at the angel's back and shakes his head sadly, “Did Michael torture you with this?” No response is answer enough and he lays the blade down to go take the angel in his arms. 

“By rights,” Lucifer says, wrapping his arms around Olle's arms across his chest, “it's Dean's anyway.”

Olle squeezes him tight before turning him around, “I'll clean it for you,” he says. “Do you want me to help you wrap it?”

Lucifer shakes his head, “I'll take care of it, if you think it's appropriate, if you don't think Gabriel will be mad.” He breaks away from Olle to go back over and pick up the blade, “It's something I want to do; need to do.”

Olle nods, “Okay Luce, but,” he pauses sadly, “don't think you can't come to me if you need to.” The angel nods and disappears. Olle just shakes his head, before going over to pull a bright green ribbon out of the trunk of his Jag and tie a bow on Beth's present. 

Staring into his trunk for a few moments, after tossing the ribbon back, he prays, “Hey Gabe,” and the angel appears at the top of the stairs. “Can you?” the angel snaps before he can finish speaking and Olle sighs, hoping he could talk to him for a moment, but, apparently, not because he is gone again just as fast. “Thanks,” Olle mumbles as he makes his way down the steps, into the Bunker. Nothing is ever going to be easy between the two of them, he knows, but, Christ, this is hard. 

Heading toward his room, where he is pretty sure Gabriel just snapped all his unwrapped presents, Olle decides he can pray, Gabriel will have to listen then. “Holy Archangel Gabriel,” he says so the angel will absolutely have to hear him, “Gabe, I wanted to thank you. Not,” he shakes his head, “not for bullying Sam into making a decision, but for still caring enough about me that you had to do something to help me; even though I was so adamant I didn't need or want anyone's help. Thank you for being my best friend. You always will be, I hope you know that.” 

Olle walks into his room and sees everything stacked neatly, exactly where he wanted it. He closes his door and goes over to the stack of gift wrap on the bed so he can get to work. He enjoys wrapping Christmas presents, but has cut himself a little short on time so he sighs a little tiredly and gets to work.


	61. Chapter 61

When Olle goes to the infirmary for a cart, he sees the steadily growing pile of gifts under the tree and, passing the kitchen, hears Beth, Dean, and Linda laughing and talking while Dean and his counterpart stand at opposite ends of the stove, cooking. It occurs to him, he let himself get so fucked up while waiting on Sam, he paid no attention to everyone settling into being together. He is more glad than he can say that everyone seems to be getting along. Beth was more right than either of them realized, celebrating Christmas together is a good idea. 

When he stops in the library, to settle his now wrapped gifts under the tree, Olle sees Lucifer come in with a stack of carefully wrapped packages. He sits them under the tree and turns to help Olle with the large crate of blades he, somehow, managed to wrap in dark red paper with black bows. “Thanks Luce,” Olle says, cart empty. 

The devil inclines his head, “Thank you. I was right,” he says confidently, “about choosing to give Dean the blade. It is something I needed to do.”

Olle nods, clapping the angel on the shoulder, “I'm glad.” 

Olle makes his way down the corridor, stopping outside Sam's room to knock on the door. When the hunter answers, Olle smiles, “How was yoga?”

Sam lets the bigger man in and, closing the door, answers with a shrug, “You were right, it is a good way to get them to socialize.”

Olle chuckles, dropping straddle Sam's desk chair, staring at the few small wrapped boxes on his bed, “I want you all to get along, get to know each other. It is a less violent way to do that than training,” he says.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles, “I don't think we're ready to train with the rest of you, yet.”

Olle laughs outright, “You'll both get there.” He turns serious now, being honest and hoping it does not upset Sam, “Dean has more experience and is more skilled in weapons and combat, but you've both got tactical minds and you're both getting better every day. Don't look at any of us as a basis for comparison, Sammy,” Olle shakes his head, looking up at his boyfriend seriously. “We've been at this a long time. It was what they were Created for, it is all I've ever done. You and your brother are the best hunters I've ever seen, more skilled and experienced than any other hunter I've ever known.”

Sam runs his hand through his hair and sighs, “Yeah, but none of that does us any good if we can't figure out what Amara's next move is, where to find her, how to stop her.”

Olle gets up then, pulling Sam into his chest and wrapping his arms around him, “How about we agree to table this conversation, and the worry that goes with it, until day after tomorrow?” He kisses Sam, slowly, neither man eager to break away, but, when the need to breathe wins out, they do not move apart, just lean their foreheads together. 

Sam nods against Olle's head, “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” He leans in and kisses Olle one more time before they break apart. Sam looks down at his watch, it is almost six, “Dean and Beth are supposed to be cooking dinner,” he says. “We should get out there and make sure they haven't killed each other.” Both men laugh. Olle laces their fingers together after Sam picks up his packages and they head through the Bunker. 

As they get into the War Room, and Sam breaks away to put his gifts under the tree, it seems like everyone else is ready for dinner as well. Kevin, Lucifer, and Gabriel come in together; Olle can hear them talking about binding spells while Kevin shakes his head and points out something he remembers from the angel tablet. Balthazar and Cas come in the main door, then, and jog down the steps while Balthazar talks about tantric yoga and the kama sutra; Cas seems unconvinced. 

Linda comes in then, Dean and Beth behind her, and Olle marvels at them all for a moment. Linda gravitates to her son immediately, Lucifer and Gabriel including her in their group seamlessly. Sam comes in, rubbing his hand down Olle's arm as he bypasses him to go to his brother while Balthazar and Cas break apart, Cas going to talk to Sam and Dean while Balthazar joins the prophet and the rest of his brothers. Olle stands in the doorway, on the steps to the library, watching as Beth bridges the gap between the two groups and they come together talking, not about war or the Darkness, Heaven or Hell, but about mundane things. Gabriel says something that gets a surprised, happy laugh out of Dean while Lucifer and Sam chuckle in a small, quiet way; each more at their brother's amusement than what was said. As the beautiful young woman Olle comes to love more and more each time he is near her herds them all toward the dinning hall, she waits in the doorway for him; taking his arm, lacing their fingers together, and tugging him along behind. 

Dinner is a happy, easy occurrence. Gabriel snaps Olle's home theater, couches included, into the dinning hall and, after Beth and Olle adamantly refuse to watch A Christmas Story; despite Dean's best efforts, Gabriel plays The Bishop's Wife with David Niven and Cary Grant. Olle laughs when Cas smiles and reminds him he understood Olle's reference to this movie when he called him Dudley after he was hexed by Metatron. Then Sam asks to watch It's a Wonderful Life and, before any of them realize it, it is midnight and Dean is begging to open gifts because, technically, it is Christmas morning. 

“No Dean,” Olle says serious. “Come one, man, it's not Christmas morning until you've slept. Let's watch Arthur Christmas or A Christmas Carol and, if you'll shut up,” he says, and everyone snickers, “we can each open one thing.”

Dean harumphes, crossing his arms like the petulant child he is and Sam smiles before placating his brother, “Come on Dean, we can exchange gifts tonight before we go to bed. How's that?”

“That's fair,” the hunter acquiesces. “But,” he gets serious and points at Olle, “we're watching Scrooged, none of that Albert Finey, singing crap.” 

“I was thinking George C. Scott,” Olle says, “but if you don't like the singing,” he trails off and grins, “How, exactly, did you know their was singing?”

Dean refuses to answer, just turns to Gabriel, “Come on short stack, que it up.”

The archangel laughs, snapping to start the movie and quips, “I'm plenty big enough where it counts Dean.”

Olle and Beth both shake their heads with a quiet chuckle, neither noticing Sam, moved over to the table of sweets and drinks, stops to stare at them both for a long moment before turning back to what he is doing.


	62. Chapter 62

After Scrooged ends, it is nearly two thirty and Linda heralds an end to the night by getting up and, with a long stretch, says, “Goodnight everyone. Merry Christmas.”

Once Linda has made her way out of the dinning room, Beth stretches and, looking up from her lounge in Balthazar's lap, says, “You can stay, but I,” she sits up and starts to stand, “am headed to bed.”

The angel catches her hand and, when she looks back at him, says reassuringly, “I'll be there soon.” 

She smiles and, with a nod, heads for the door. “Merry Christmas,” she says without looking back. 

Sam runs his hand down Olle's thigh, where they are next to each other on the couch, and squeezes gently near the inside of his knee, understanding their exchange more than ever now that Gabriel made him aware of Olle's sleep disturbances. The doctor pulls the hunter to him a little more with the arm draped over his shoulder and whispers in his ear, “You and Dean were going to exchange gifts, right?” Sam nods without saying anything and Olle goes on, “I'm going to go talk to Beth.”

“We're sleeping in your room,” Sam says seriously. “Didn't you fall in the floor the last time we were both in my bed?” he chuckles into Olle's ear, trying to make light of the space previously between them. “It's too small for us both.”

Olle turns his mouth into Sam's for a brief kiss before he smiles, “It is. Just come when you're finished.” Sam nods and Olle gets up, following Beth out of the room. 

**

Quickly enough, the angels, even Cas, gravitate downstairs to Gabriel's research as Sam and Dean wonder through the Bunker. Stopping in the War Room, Sam turns toward the library, “Come on Dean,” he smiles at his brother, “I wanted to do this without anyone around anyway.”

Dean laughs, “Okay Sammy, back with the boyfriend less than a day and already, chick-flick?”

Sam chuckles at his brother's attempt to make himself less uncomfortable and throws the small box containing Dean's gift at his brother's head, “You know what, jerk? Just open your fuckin' present.”

“Jeeze, bitch, okay,” Dean says when the box hits him in the head and he bends down to pick it up. Walking over to the tree, Dean bends down to find an even smaller box and hand it to his brother, “Here, this is yours.” He shoves the box into his brother's chest and they both drop at the library table closest to the tree. 

For a long moment, both brother's just stare at the carefully wrapped packages in front of them; Dean wondering what possessed him to be so sentimental with his gift while Sam is gearing up for the conversation he knows is coming when Dean opens the box. 

“Come on Dean,” Sam coaxes after a deep breath, “you first.”

Dean shakes his head, reaching for the box in front of him and, nervously, starts to peal the tape away but it rips and his enthusiasm gets the better of him. Once the paper is laying forgotten on the table, Dean stares at the box, an empty box of 9mm rounds, and shakes it, it is very light and nothing seems to move inside the box. “Come on Sammy,” he says trying to open the box, but it is taped shut, “why'd you make it so freaking hard to get to?”

Sam just smiles and shakes his head, bashfully, “Sorry man,” he says reaching for the box, but Dean gets it open then and pulls the empty plastic bags out that Sam used to pad the box. 

When Dean sees his long discarded amulet dangling from his hand, tangled in one of the bags, he catches his breath. “Sammy?” Dean wonders in awe of what he sees; untangling the leather thong from the bag, he holds it in his hand like he is afraid he will lose it again if he stops looking at it. Finally, he looks up at his brother, lump in his throat, “Where'd you find this man?”

“I,” Sam clears his throat and tucks his hair behind his ears, “I never lost it Dean.” He is uncomfortable, but he smiles and, slowly, makes eye contact with his brother, “I dug it out of the trash after you and Cas left the room that day.” 

“You had it all this time?” Dean wonders. 

Sam nods, laughing, but there are tears in his eyes, “It,” he clears his throat again, “it was in my pocket that day, in Stull Cemetery. It was,” he chuckles and wipes his eyes. “Even without a soul, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it.”

Dean is overwhelmed with so many different emotions that all he can do is carefully put the amulet around his neck. The weight of it, something he has not felt in so long, is a comforting thing; it makes him feel whole, at peace for the first time in a long time. “Dammit Sammy,” Dean breathes, “this, I can't believe it Sam.”

“I just,” Sam runs his hands through his hair again, “I've wanted you to have it back for a while now.” He takes a deep breath, “And I wanted to apologize to you, Dean.”

“For what Sam?” Dean wonders looking at his brother with an open expression Sam has not seen in so long it brings back the tears. 

“I should have,” his voice breaks and he takes a deep, calming breath, “I should have looked for you. When you were in Purgatory. I should have turned over every stone. But I didn't. I stopped. And I've never forgiven myself for it.”

“Well, I have,” Dean says firmly. “Hey,” he reaches out, across the table, and takes his brother's wrist, “that's in the past man. What's done is done. All that matters now, all that's ever mattered,” he squeezes Sam's wrist and makes eye contact, “is that we're together. Now, shut up and open your present.”

Sam smiles, looking down at the box in front of him. The paper is iridescent blue, almost the color of Cas' eyes, with silver and white snowflakes on it and a very tiny white bow; Sam picks up the box, it is very light and fits in the palm of his hand. Whatever it is, Sam thinks, he must have wrapped it in a matchbox. Carefully, Sam unwraps the box and slides it open. “Dean is this? Oh my God,” Sam says quietly, turning the box over to dump his father's wedding ring into his hand. 

“It was in his bag of affects,” Dean says. “I remember Mom,” he is quiet, voice full of emotion, “I used to ask about her ring.” He smiles, turning the ring he wears on his own hand, “She said I could have it one day, give it,” he laughs a little, “give it to a nice girl. Dad would want you to have it,” he wipes his eyes, failing to catch all the tears before they fall. 

“Dean, man,” Sam shakes he head, closing his fist around the ring. “Thank you,” he says simply, sincerely, eyes brimming over as well. Sam slips the ring over his finger, exactly where Dean always wears their mother's wedding band, and looks at his hand for a long time before he looks up at Dean, “Merry Christmas Dean.”

“Merry Christmas Sam,” Dean says collecting the torn paper and empty boxes as he gets up. “Goodnight Sam.”

Sam smiles, as he gets up to follow his brother down the hall. Outside Dean's bedroom door Sam stops, “Dean,” he says leaving an empty space at the end so his brother turns. He reaches out and hugs him, Dean returning the embrace for a long moment, before they break apart, “Goodnight Dean.”


	63. Chapter 63

Dean is looking in the mirror over his dresser, at the amulet; hung around his neck like it never left, when there is a knock on the door. Going over, Dean thinks it may be Sam, again, but Cas is standing there stoic as ever, waiting. 

“Hello Dean,” the angel says. “May I come in?”

“Sure Cas,” Dean says moving out of the way. Cas follows him with a smile and takes a seat in the desk chair. “What can I do for you?” Dean wonders, dropping down on the edge of his bed. 

“I understand it is customary for people to exchange gifts during the Christmas holiday,” the angel says.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean says, hoping he is not about to have a whole conversation about the finer points of gift exchange.

“I wanted to give you your gift, then,” the angel says with a nod. 

“Cas, man,” Dean shakes his head, uncomfortable with the idea of Cas giving him anything; even though he and Sam have something for their best friend.

“I want you to know, Dean,” the angel says seriously, leaning forward in his chair, “how much your friendship means to me.”

“Yeah Cas, I know,” Dean says, uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. 

“The only thing I can think to give you, to represent how much everything you've done for me means to me, is,” here the angel stops and heaves a heavy sigh. “It is something that, really, should never have been mine to begin with.” Cas stands here and starts to pace. 

“What's wrong Cas?” Dean wonders. “What are you talking about?”

“What Lucifer said the day the Host attempted to smite Amara made me think,” Cas says, turning to his friend. “Our orders were, you know now, to retrieve your soul and return it to Heaven, to Michael, so you, like your brother Adam, could be convinced of your mission.”

“Okay Cas,” Dean says seriously, getting up to direct his friend back to his vacated chair. “Thanks for not doing that,” he says with a slight grin. 

“I don't know, Dean, if you fully understand everything that happened in Hell. To,” Cas shakes his head, remembering, “to undo what had been done to you, to cleanse you of what you became, was no easy task.” 

Dean looks at his friend confused. He has the vaguest of horrific memories of Hell, what was done to him, what he did when given the opportunity. He has always assumed it was Cas' way of helping him maintain a shred of sanity, letting him forget many of the specifics. 

When the angel starts to speak again, Dean is rapt with attention. “Did it never occur to you to wonder, when you rose a Knight of Hell, why Crowley never took you into Hell? Never crowed his victory over the Winchester's by showing his Kingdom that you were, now that Abadon was dead, the strongest living demon besides Cain? Why he didn't try harder to use you to shore up his own power, so recently regained?”

“I...I never thought about it,” Dean says, wondering now, why none of this ever happened. 

“When you rose from the rack, for Alistair, you were a demon Dean,” Cas says softly. “You rose more quickly through the ranks than we anticipated and, before you had been unleashed a year, had supplanted Alistair as Grand Inquisitor. His minions followed your lead, and so did he, along with countless others who were on your table, or theirs,” Cas says seriously. Dean is horrified, and silent, unable to do anything but listen to his friend and wish he were not getting the flashes of memory that are returning to him the more Cas speaks. “When I found you,” Cas smiles here, in memory, “your soul was still the brightest thing in Hell. To raise you, was a great battle,” he says turning somber. “You, and the demons who followed you, were vicious in your assault and many of my brothers fell to the weapons given to you by the Fallen who were helping you. An angel's Grace is diminished in Hell and of almost no use to us in battle, so it was with skill and luck we pushed forward, through the ranks, toward our goal. When I found you, you were engaged in battle with three angels and they quickly fell to the blade you wielded. I was certain I was to be next, but,” here Cas shakes his head, clearly impressed with what he sees as his own luck in battle, “I came through victorious.” 

Dean is reminded of Lucifer and Olle talking about Cas' skill as a warrior in the beginning, before Michael and Naomi dug their hooks into him. He knows Lucifer was right when he said Cas was sent by Michael specifically to return his soul to Heaven. He is, again, more grateful than he can express for his friend and everything Cas has ever done for him. 

Dean is about to tell him just this, when Cas continues speaking, though, “When you were defeated, my refusal to take your life meant you owed me something.” 

Cas stops, lost in memory, and mumbles, almost to himself, “Even then, your soul was so bright.” 

He continues, looking up to make eye contact with Dean, “I was to return you to Michael as is, still a demon, but the humanity that still radiated off of you was too compelling to ignore. I could not help but reach out, seeking what it was within you that gave you such light, even though you were no longer a fully human soul.” Cas grins then and Dean finds himself smiling along with his friend, “It was Sam and your memories of your family, your mother and father, Bobby, that made your soul shine even in Hell and I knew I couldn't simply leave you as you were. How you came to have Michael's spear, I do not know, but, until that moment, I was set to claim it as my prize; instead,” Cas shakes his head in awe, even now, of his actions, “instead I laid claim to you, your soul, as my spoils of war. And now,” he continues, at the end of his tale, “I would like to relinquish my claim, as my gift to you Dean; for Christmas.”

Dean is quiet for a long time, in awe of the everything Cas has just told him. The only thing he knows for certain, right now, though, is that he has an uneasy feeling about this whole thing. It feels wrong, to him, somehow, for Cas to no longer want this connection to him. He worries it is because of the Mark, Amara, and her hold on him. Shaking his head, he reaches out to Cas, putting his hand on the angel's arm, “Wait a minute Cas,” he says seriously. “Why now?” he wonders. “After all this time, after everything, is it because of Amara? Do you, am I, why would you relinquish your claim?” Dean wonders, feeling a gape open between them at the mere thought of Cas no longer having some heretofore unknown ethereal right to him. 

“What?” Cas wonders, confused by the turn of the conversation. “Amara? Are you worried, Dean,” he says his friend's name as an admonishment, “This has nothing to do with the Mark or Amara. You have always been a man to fight against fate and destiny. That is something your friendship has taught me. To never settle for what is expected. To always strive to be wholly in control of your own destiny. This is merely my attempt to give you, in its entirety, your own autonomy.”

“Well, thanks Cas, but no thanks,” he says, clapping the angel on the shoulder. “Like I've said before, I'd rather have you.”

“But Dean,” the angel tries, “it is merely a formality at this point as I have never even attempted to exert any type of force over you and my brand has long since faded.”

“It's okay Cas,” the hunter says getting up, pulling his friend and steering him toward the door, “we're good and it's late so,” he opens the door and pushes Cas into the hallway, “goodnight and Merry Christmas.” He shuts the door and goes back to the bed. The weight of Sam's amulet and Cas' long faded brand make him feel lighter than he has in a while and, despite his racing thoughts, he sleeps peacefully.


	64. Chapter 64

Cas stands outside Dean's door for a few moments, curious what just happened. Soon, he senses Dean sleeping peacefully, though, and decides, whatever just happened, it was a good thing. Making his way down the corridor, he sees Olle headed his way and thinks to ask, “Olle?”

At the sound of his name, the immortal stops, “Yeah Cas?” 

“Could I speak to Sam for a moment before you go to bed, please?”

“Sure Cas,” he says with a shrug, “is everything okay?”

“Of course,” the angel says quickly, still thoughtful about what he just tried to do for Dean. 

“Okay.” Olle smiles, chucking him on the shoulder, “I'll give you guys a few minutes,” he says before turning to make his way back toward the War Room and whatever he is going to occupy his time with. 

Knocking on Olle's bedroom door, Cas hears shuffling on the other side before Sam is leaned in the doorway in just his boxer-briefs. “Hey Cas,” the hunter says with an easy smile. “What's up?”

“I asked Olle,” the angel starts, “if I could speak to you for a few moments and he agreed. May I come in Sam?”

“Sure Cas,” he says curious, moving out of the doorway to let his friend inside. 

“I've been trying to partake in the Christmas tradition of gift giving,” the angel starts, still standing in the middle of the room while Sam drops on the bed. 

“Okay,” Sam says, still curious, running a hand through his hair and gesturing for Cas to have a seat. 

As the angel drops on the ottoman in front of Sam he shakes his head, “I do not think it is going as well as I expected it to, however. But,” he looks up at Sam sincerely, “I would very much like to try again.”

“Sure Cas,” Sam says, not sure what to expect from his off-kilter friend. 

“I have nothing of any value to give, Sam,” the angel says simply. “I would just like you to understand how much I cherish the relationship I've come to build with you and Dean during our time together. I think of you both as family, as my brothers, and I would like to ask if I may consider you as such?”

“Yeah Cas, man, of course!” Sam says immediately. “You are family!”

“Thank you Sam,” the angel says with a smile, standing. “I will go tell Olle he is free to come to bed, now.”

Sam follows him to the door and, when the angel is on the other side, says, “Merry Christmas Cas.”

“Thank you Sam,” he says again, “Merry Christmas.”

**

When Olle comes to bed the room is dark and Sam is more than half asleep already, but the immortal plasters himself along the length of his beautiful boyfriend and kisses him slowly. “Merry Christmas Sammy,” he say quietly, settling himself into the hunter's arms. 

Sam sighs and mumbles a sleepy, “Merry Christmas,” before he rolls away from Olle, onto his side. Olle just chuckles before he pulls Sam into him little spoon style and goes to sleep. 

When the alarm goes off at eight, Olle looks up at Sam staring down at him thoughtfully and smiles, reaching to grab his phone, “What?” he asks, smiling as he turns off the alarm before he rolls around to envelope Sam and lay claim to his mouth. 

Sam smiles when they break apart and says, “Nothing,” before he swings his legs off the bed and reaches for his jeans. Olle follows suit and both men are quickly dressed, making their way down the corridor. 

In the kitchen, Olle pulls food from the refrigerator while Sam makes coffee. Beth comes in as Olle is starting to cut vegetables for omelets; picking up a knife she starts helping and, soon, everyone is in the library eating. 

After breakfast, Gabriel offering, with a snap, to do the dishes, Dean looks at the still ponderous stack of gifts beneath the tree and asks, “Who goes first?”

Olle laughs while Sam smiles affectionately at his brother; Dean had been fidgeting and staring at the tree all through breakfast. More than half the fun, for Olle at any rate, is watching everyone else open gifts, so he heaves himself out of his chair, “I'll hand them out and you all decide.” 

Olle goes over to the tree and sees everyone has at least one wrapped gift. He turns with a box for Balthazar and sees Dean is behind him, ready to help, and they make quick, easy work of giving everyone their own stack. It is enjoyable in a way Olle only remembers because he has no other choice. Having this again is comforting and it eases, a little, the loneliness and sorrow this holiday, and memories of his true and adopted family, have caused over the past few weeks. 

Sitting down beside Sam, he sees his own stack of gifts and, suddenly self-conscious, wants to gear the whole thing so he is somewhere in the middle, not first or last. With this in mind, he notices Cas has the most boxes, so he says, “Hey Cas, why don't you go first?”

The angel nods and picks up a box, reading the tag aloud, “To Castiel. From Olle.” He looks up at the immortal and says, “Thank you Olle,” before he starts to carefully examine the box. 

After a quiet thirty seconds of Cas' examination, Gabriel laughs, “Come on Cassie, rip into it already!”

The angel smiles, shaking his head, as he carefully starts to remove the tape and unwrap the box. Everyone smiles when one end rips and Cas chuckles, giving in and tearing the paper the rest of the way off. Once he gets the plain white box open, he pulls out a pair of light gray yoga pants and sleeveless shirt nearly the color of his eyes. He looks up at Olle who says, “You've been doing yoga in Sam's cast off sweats; I thought you could use some clothes of your own.”

“Thank you Olle,” Cas says, turning back to pull two more pant shirt combinations out in black and green and dark gray and red. The angel's next gift is yoga related as well, from Beth, an extra-long blue yoga mat as well as blocks and a strap complete with a matching bag that stores everything. 

Next, Kevin appears in front of Cas, box in hand. “Hey Cas,” the ghostly prophet says, “I, I wanted you to have this. I know we never really, well, anyway,” the kid shrugs and hands the angel the box. 

Carefully, the angel opens the box to reveal a small blue piece of sea glass, about the size of a matchbox car, and he looks up at Kevin, “I didn't know you'd kept it.”

The ghost shrugs again, “You said something about how important it was when you gave it to me. I figured you were crazy, but it was so important to you,” he shakes his head, smiling at the memory. “I had it the whole time Dick was holding me hostage and I'd take it out and stare at it sometimes, it made me think of you and hope you were coming to save me; save everyone. And when Crowley took me, after you went to Purgatory; it reminded me of everything that was at stake, what I should be willing to give, to keep him from using me.”

Cas chuckles, still staring at the smooth piece of glass in his hand, “I found it in Australia, the night we met. It had washed up on the beach near the dog track. I was so,” he shakes his head, “I was so out of it and it reminded me of Grace. I don't know why I took it, or why I gave it to you, but thank you, Kevin, truly. That it came to mean something to you, and you want me to have it, means very much to me. Thank you,” he says again, smiling, and he puts the glass in his pocket.


	65. Chapter 65

“Okay Cas,” Dean says, still grinning at Balthazar's totally inappropriate gift of what seems to be the greatest hits of gay porn for the last decade, “that one is from me and Sam.” Dean gestures to the only gift Cas has left, a small box wrapped in green paper. When the angel opens it, it contains a small key and Cas looks up at Dean, a question in his eyes, “Read the tag,” the hunter says in answer. 

“It's just a number,” Cas replies, looking at the small white tag tied to the key with a piece of what could be dental floss. 

“Yeah Cas,” Sam says smiling, “it's a room number. For your room. Here.”

“My own room?” the angel says looking between Sam and Dean. 

“Yeah man,” Dean says. “Everyone just sorta found their own room when they got here; that's even how Kevin got his room when he first moved in. You never did, though, so Sammy and I just sorta picked one for you.”

“It's all set up Cas,” Sam says. “Bed, TV, Netflix,” he chuckles. 

“And hey,” Dean says, “I didn't let Sam give you a bunch of documentaries to watch either, there's all the classics too.”

“The best of the Three Stooges,” Sam says, fake offended, “is not a classic Dean.”

“And, hey, now you have somewhere in peace to enjoy my gift,” Balthazar says seriously, before he grins; knowing how much this means to his brother, who has yet to speak. 

“I,” Cas looks down at the key, speechless. “My own room,” he mumbles. Looking back up to stare between the brothers, his best friends, he smiles broadly, “Thank you both, very much. This has been,” he trails off shaking his head and everyone smiles. 

“Okay, who's next?” Gabriel wonders after a few moments of silence. 

“Let's just go clockwise around the room,” Sam says. 

“Come on Luce,” Gabriel says then, “you're up.”

The archangel sits forward and, shyly, pulls the smallest box from the top of his gifts. After reading the tag, he rips the paper off to reveal the entire box set of Game of Thrones. “Thank you Balthazar,” he says smiling at his brother who merely inclines his head. Olle's gift is next, online learning courses in sociology and psychology. “What,” the angel wonders opening up a neatly folded sheet of paper on top of the stack of text books, “is this?”

“It's a suggested reading list,” Olle says. “You wanted to know more about history. There's a list of documentaries too. If you have questions, please ask one of us, we'll help you any way we can.”

“Thank you Olle,” he says smiling at the immortal. Reaching for the next gift, slightly larger, he looks fondly over at Beth, “This is deceptively light. And soft!” he exclaims giving the wrapping a squeeze.” 

She grins, “You're gonna get a kick outta it, I promise!”

Lucifer rips into the white paper dotted with candy canes and lets lose a genuine laugh when he sees what is inside. Unfurling the blanket, a soft, fuzzy crochet stripped in all the colors of the asexual flag, he asks, “Did you make this yourself?” When she nods, he smiles again, “Thank you very much Beth, this is wonderful!”

She shrugs, “You like to be comfortable and I noticed you really love the fleece throw in your room. I figured you'd like something like that of your own.”

Draping the blanket over his lap, Lucifer picks up the smallest of his last two packages and looks over at Linda, “Linda, you didn't have to get me anything. Thank you very much. Your hospitality and your company are gift enough.” 

As the angel opens his gift Linda responds, “It isn't much. I just asked Olle to suggest a few books you might find informative.”

“I hope you enjoy your gift as much as I know I'll enjoy these,” he says sincerely, turning the books she bought him over in his hand before sitting them on the table to stare at his largest box, in the floor; a gift from Gabriel. 

“Okay Luci,” the youngest archangel says, “time to get to the fun stuff.”

Lucifer shakes his head as he rips into the green and red Grinch paper to reveal the entire series of Cards Against Humanity and he looks up at his brother, “What are these?”

Dean chuckles, “It's a game. We'll teach you how to play later, it'll be fun!” Everyone can tell by the hunter's tone, he is going to enjoy roping everyone into playing later.

Gabriel goes next, sitting beside Lucifer, and he only has three packages. The first, is from Lucifer and he reads the tag before ripping into the Christmas Tree covered paper. When an ancient forged seal strikes the table he looks up at his brother awestruck, “I thought it would have been destroyed. How did you?” he trails off not needing to finish. 

Lucifer looks at his brother's gift for a quiet moment before he answers, “When I was freed from the Cage, I was so devastated, still,” he is quiet and sad. He looks down at his hands where they rest in his lap, “I felt you all there, though,” he says, quickly looking up to stare at all three of his brothers in turn before turning back to Gabriel. “I, I kept it because I thought you were dead, and Balthazar and Legion,” he shakes his head. “Cas was so far beyond reach. I wanted,” he is meek again, looking down so he does not have to make eye contact with anyone, “I wanted to keep a part of you all close to me so I could remember when you all still cared enough to protect me instead of just want me dead. Now, though,” he says more confidently, “now, I want you to have it back so you remember what you did and you can find it in yourself to do something as fantastic again.”

“What is it?” Sam asks when no one speaks. 

“It is the seal, forged with Holy Fire,” Gabriel says solemnly, “ imbued with our Grace, and used to lock the Cage once Lucifer was trapped inside.” Pulling a small vial out of thin air, he picks up the seal and, vial in one hand, seal in the other, extracts a small amount of Grace before turning to Balthazar, “I got you something already, but this will, I'm sure, mean more than anything. I'm sorry Father didn't give him back to you.”

“What,” Sam leans over to whisper in Olle's ear, “is he talking about?” Olle merely shakes his head, indicating he will not talk about it right now.

Balthazar takes the vial and squeezes it so tightly in his hand Sam and Dean expect it to shatter. He presses his fist to his chest before saying, “Thank you Gabriel. This, this is all I have of him and it has been so long,” his voice breaks on what is clearly a sob, but he sighs loudly before gesturing to the youngest archangel's other gifts, “Get to it big brother, so we can teach Luce how to play the game you got him.”


	66. Chapter 66

Gabriel's remaining presents are from Olle and Beth, respectively. He got the archangel several gallons of mint-chip gelato from a place they used to frequent in Italy; where they have been making gelato for over a hundred years. Gabriel was confused at first, because Olle simply wrapped an empty gelato container. Beth's gift is more of a returning of something the angel lost. Opening the wooden box, Gabriel laughs and, brandishing Moljnir, asks, “Where did you find it?”

“When Lucifer,” but she stops and changes course, “With Thor gone, it should return to you. It was your gift to him, anyway.”

“I bought it,” Olle says. “I was caught up by work, and missed the initial auction, but,” he looks over at Sam and Dean with a grin, “I heard it was a disaster and the hammer came up again at the next one.”

“It was yours?” Sam asks, remembering the auction and Linda's attempt to buy Kevin and a tablet with her soul before Crowley caused a scene. 

Gabriel nods, smiling, “It was a gift to Thor for helping me take Loki's place when he killed his brother. It is true Damascus, forged by dwarves in dragon fire and tempered with my blood.”

“I wish I'd found it before I ended up in Purgatory,” Olle says. “It is the only thing I've ever seen that can kill Leviathan. Looking for it while trying to keep a step ahead of them with their tablet was exhausting.”

“And a battle we eventually lost,” Beth says seriously.

After a few moments of silence both immortals are shocked Dean does not fill with questions, Gabriel looks over at Linda. “Okay lady,” he says affectionately, “your turn.”

Linda smiles, picking up a carefully wrapped package, and reading the tag aloud, “To Mrs. Tran. From Lucifer.” She smiles affectionately, “Thank you Luce, I'm sure I'll love it.” When she opens the package, she takes in a shocked breath at the book revealed. Sighing sadly, she shakes her head while turning the book over to read the back before opening it to a random spot in the middle. Finally, she looks up at the archangel with tears in her eyes, “Thank you,” she says simply. Lucifer just smiles and inclines his head. 

The book is old, and worn, and everyone wonders what is so special about it, but she simply lays the book down and picks up one of two remaining gifts, both seem to be Christmas cards. Opening the first one, she laughs when a Polaroid picture falls to the table. “Thanks Baz,” she says looking from the picture over to the angel. 

The angel shrugs, “I really did hate your TV. It's all set up, and I'll put it wherever you want it. Here or Olle's or I can leave it where it is.”

Linda just laughs, picking up her last gift, “It's fine where it is for now,” she says as she opens Olle's card. Reading carefully for a few silent moments, she looks up, between him and Beth, with tears in her eyes, “Thank you, thank you both so much!” She gets up then, to hug each of them in turn. 

“I get her an entire entertainment center and she hugs the two of you for one card?” Balthazar asks. 

Beth reaches out and, laughing, takes the angel's hand where he sits between her and Linda, “It's the beginnings of the spell for Kevin.”

“Oh,” the angel responds, understanding now. 

“What do you mean,” Dean wonders, “about a 'spell for Kevin'? What about Kevin?”

“We need him,” Olle says. “Especially now that we know Metatron won't talk to us about what he knows. We need him alive and we need to make sure he's still a prophet.”

“And?” Dean demands. 

“Bringing him back with Grace,” Gabriel answers, “won't ensure he's a prophet. It'll take more than that, because his body, what tied him here and made him a prophet, was destroyed when you salted and burnt him. It'll take power, invasive blood magick to bring him back and conjure his body, his actual body, out of the remnants of it.”

“You're going to bring him back?” Sam asks. “When?”

“When I've finished the spell,” Olle says. “When I have everything I need to do it. When I'm sure it's safe, when we have figured who else is coming with him.”

“What do you mean?” Dean and Sam say in unison. 

“How many people have you lost over the last fifteen years?” Beth wonders. “Who do you want back? Who do you think would be willing to come back to help us?”

Olle hopes they do not demand the return of their parents, finding them wherever Michael had the opportunity to put them, could be impossible. “My intentions were merely Charlie, Bobby, and Ash, if he is willing to come after so long in Heaven.”

“When were you going to tell us this?” Dean demands, angrily. 

“Gee Dean,” Olle drawls sarcastically, “I don't know. I figured I'd surprise you.”

“Olle,” Beth admonishes. Turning to the brothers, she explains, “We need help. We will need power when Gabe finds a way to push Amara away. Being able to rally Heaven would be helpful. Getting help from souls, even if they stay in Heaven, means approaching those we know, who have knowledge and experience, and can help us convince other souls, less experienced ones, to put their natural power behind our efforts. It isn't necessarily about bringing anyone back from the dead.”

“I'd like to meet Charlie, though,” Olle says fondly. “And I can't imagine she deserved what those Frankenstein bastards did to her. I'd be willing to drag her back if she is willing to let me.”

Dean remembers, too well, what he did after seeing what was done to her, and he nods, “She and Kevin both deserved better than we ever gave them.” Turning to the prophet, who is sitting beside his mother, Dean says, “I know I told you before, but I'm sorry Kevin. I'm sorry I lied and I'm sorry that got you killed. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.” He is misty eyed and serious, choked up talking to another member of his family he feels he let down, could not protect, and, ultimately, got killed.

“Don't worry about it,” the ghost says sheepishly. “You get Sam killed all the time and he keeps forgiving you. I've only died once.” He shrugs, “I'm over it.” Everyone laughs, even Linda, but Dean snuffles for a moment before he nods.


	67. Chapter 67

Balthazar is sitting next to Linda and quips, “Okay, my turn. Everyone had better know I plan to pout if I don't like my gifts.” He is trying to lighten the mood now, after Olle's admission and Dean's sincere apology. Picking up his first gift, he shakes the box and asks, face more than expressing his displeasure, “Okay Luce, is it a book?” 

“If it is,” his brother says jovially, “you'll read it and like it. You spend too much time with your head in the clouds, broaden your mind little brother.”

Balthazar chuckles as he rips into the paper and grins, “Ho! Okay, I'm all for broadening my mind with these.” Lucifer chuckles as Balthazar reveals he bought his brother the entire Song of Ice and Fire series. Picking up the next box, he reads the tag and turns to Cas, “What did you get me Cas?” He shakes the box and tilts his head to the side thoughtful, “Where did you get it?”

Cas smiles, “I was looking for something for Claire and I saw this. It made me think of you.”

Dean chuckles, “Did you buy your brother something from Hot Topic, Cas?”

When the angel nods, Balthazar laughs and tears into the paper. Opening the box, he is shocked, thinking it was going to be an amusing T-shirt. Pulling the blue peacoat out of the box, he looks it over carefully, “It's,” he is grinning, “it's the TARDIS!” Standing, he pulls the coat on and it fits perfectly, “Thanks Cas, this is fantastic!” Olle chuckles, Nine Balthazar is not, but he looks sexy both in the color and the coat. 

Beth pulls the angel down into a kiss, pointing out to everyone what Olle just thought, before pointing at an envelope on the table, “Open mine next Baz.”

Balthazar chuckles, opening the coat to sit back down and pull Beth's gift off the table. “Don't tell me,” he grins, “sex coupons!” 

“Better,” she assures him as he opens the plain white envelope and unfold a piece of paper. 

Reading the piece of paper quietly for a moment, the angel finally looks up and smiles, “This is perfect Bethy, thank you,” he says softly before leaning in to take her mouth. 

“What is it?” Gabriel asks curiously. 

“It's a trip to Paris,” the angel answers. “Booked starting tomorrow, with a great itinerary!” 

“I figured,” Beth says smiling, “if we're needed, it's easy to find us, and I knew he'd enjoy it.”

No one objects so the angel picks up his last gift and, ripping into the paper, asks, “Okay Gabe, what's this?” He laughs before his brother can answer and turns 'Wicca and Magic for Dummies' around for everyone to see. 

Beth picks up the paper and, wadding it into a ball, throws it at Gabriel affectionately, still grinning, before turning to the stack of three boxes in front of her. “My turn, I guess,” she says sheepishly. 

Everyone settles down and she pulls the largest box toward her, wrapped in deep turquoise paper with silver snowflakes, she reads the tag before pulling off the bow and ripping the paper. The large white box is opened to reveal four beautiful cowl neck sweaters in cream, deep blue, hunter green and black. Pulling out the blue one, she rubs it against the side of her face to feel the texture and looks over at Balthazar. “Thanks Baz,” she says affectionately. “When did you get them?” she asks. 

“I went back for them that day at the Mall, after I left you and Sam,” the angel answers. 

Rubbing the sweater against her face one last time, she sets it back in the box and pulls the next package toward her. The wrapping is black, it is from Olle. Unwrapping the paper, she pulls out a knit dress with long sleeves and a cowl neck; it is a dark sapphire blue and will hang at mid thigh. She admires it for a moment before she fold it back into the box in her lap and turns to her counter point to say, “Thank you, you didn't have to go to all the trouble; it's beautiful.”

Olle leans over to place a kiss to her temple and says, “You're worth it. It only took a couple of days and you really liked the yarn when we were buying Cas' gifts that day.”

“You, you made that?” Dean asks shocked. His tone is more curious than it is judgmental, but his expression is incredulous. 

Olle laughs, nodding, “Men have always knitted Dean. Sitting in the fields all day, tending sheep while the women actually worked, they needed something to do. It used to be a highly skilled craft, men would study and apprentice for years to learn.”

Beth is running her hand over the dress, it is rib knit but there is a twisted rope pattern as well and the hem and cuffs are a curling network of celtic knotwork. “It won't go with your next gift at all,” Olle says and, with a jerk of his head, indicates the last box on the table, just small enough to hold the keys to her motorcycle. 

Ripping the box open, Beth looks up at him and asks, “Where is it?” with a bright, excited smile on her face. Olle laughs at her and, then, at Lucifer because he has moved them all to the garage. Beth is right beside her bike and she squeals when she sees it. Before she ever lays a hand on it, she turns to Olle and jumps, legs around his waist and arms around his neck to plant kisses all over his face while she says, “Oh my God!” and “Thank you!” over and over while he holds her and laughs. 

When she finally jumps down, she looks around for a moment and is suddenly embarrassed. Turning to Sam, she says, “Sorry,” and gestures to Olle with one hand while looking down at her feet. 

Sam laughs, coming over to wrap his arm around Olle. “It's okay,” he assures her. Seeing her be so affectionate with Olle, he feels he understands Olle a little more. She is showing him pieces of Olle he does not show anyone. Except, probably, Gabriel, but Sam will not let those thoughts seep into his brain today. 

After a few minutes of careful examination, Beth looks up at Olle from her seat and says, “You're up hot stuff. Hey Luce,” she throws over to the archangel, “wanna do that again and drop us all in the garage in Kansas City?”


	68. Chapter 68

“You didn't?” the giant of a man exclaims, looking down at Beth who just pushes the button and lets the garage door move to reveal the bright red bow on the brand new truck. Laughing, the immortal stalks outside to examine his new vehicle. Olle examines the big blue truck with a smile, hand trailing over the hood before he stops to read the paper still in the window. 

Coming up to hand him the keys, Beth says, “They dropped it off this morning. I ordered it after I test drove one just like it. I was gonna go black, but I liked the blue when I saw it in the catalog.”

Draping his arm around her, Olle takes the keys and looks down at her, “Thanks for this. And those,” he looks over at the snowplow, the wench, and the twelve foot trailer sitting in the driveway. 

She laughs, “Those were all Baz. I was just going to get you the truck.”

He drops a kiss to the top of her head and calls out, “Thanks Baz,” to the angel; who merely gives him a cheery salute. 

“Okay,” Gabriel says then as they all appear back in the Bunker, around the library table, “you're not finished yet.”

Olle sits back down and asks, “Where'd you put my truck?”

“Everything is locked safely in the garage now,” the angel answers. “You can go back and play with it when we're finished.”

Olle chuckles, shaking his head, as he pulls a large, heavy box toward him. The tag indicates it is from Lucifer and he wonders aloud, as he pulls off the paper, “What'd you get me Luce?”

“I think it is all there,” he says, not exactly answering, “but we'll have to check with what you already have, to be sure.”

Olle gets the box open to reveal thousands of pieces of the Great Eye. Looking up at the archangel, he asks, “How'd you manage this?”

Lucifer smiles, “You said Metatron indicated there were many fans of Tolkien's books out there who were collecting pieces. I bought most of them,” he says. “Some were taken,” he admits sheepishly, “from collectors, labs, museums, and research facilities. Oddly,” he says thoughtfully, “only a few small pieces were in the hands of anyone who could have done any harm with them.”

“I'll need to make a hexbox to store all the pieces,” Olle says sifting through the box. 

“Maybe several,” Beth says then. 

Olle nods, “So all the pieces aren't stored together, yeah. Thank you Lucifer,” he says then, looking up at the archangel. Closing the box, he looks up at the last two boxes on the table, both from Sam. 

Reaching for the larger of the two, Gabriel interrupts by clearing his throat, “Olle,” he says getting up to walk around the table, “I was going to give these to you anyway, but, since it's Christmas,” he trials off coming to a stop in front of the big man. As he stands there, Olle turns in his chair, Gabriel almost between his knees, and waits while the angel fumbles in his jacket pocket for a small, brown leather pouch. Handing it to the immortal, he says, “You gave them back to me when I most needed to be reminded I owed you, everyone, my brother, help. Now, I want you to have them back so you remember you're still my best friend and I'm never going to stop calling you out on your shit or needing your help to remember what's important.”

Olle takes the bag, visibly emotional, and pours more than twenty dime sized rubies out into his hand. Looking at them for a moment, he looks up at Gabriel, accusatory, “There are two missing.” 

He breathes a sigh of relief when the angel turns to Beth with a small black jewelry box, “These are for you love; for calling me out on my shit and reminding me what's important.” 

Beth opens the box to reveal two ruby teardrop earrings set with diamonds. “Thanks Gabe,” she says curtly, looking up at the angel. She fingers one of the rubies before looking over at Olle as if asking if this is okay and he nods before she closes the box. 

Neither of them, Sam notices, seem happy about this and, before he can do more than decide he will ask Olle about it later, Dean chimes in with, “What's that about?”

Beth smiles while Sam groans internally and Olle answers, “After I came back from Hell, I called out to Gabe; completely out of my mind after so many years in the Pit.” He pours the rubies back in the bag and drops them on the table, staring at the bag while he goes on, “After a while, we fell asleep one night in Australia and I woke up in India, alone. That,” he points one long elegant finger at the bag, “under my pillow.” 

If looks could kill, Sam thinks the bag, the table, and Gabriel would all have just burst into flames. Olle, though, seems to do a small, full body shake and turns to Sam with an affectionate smile and Sam returns it, reaching out to kiss him before settling back in his seat. “Ready?” he asks Olle, gesturing to the two gifts he got for the doctor. 

Olle nods, reaching for the largest package and opens it slowly to reveal a silver watch with a brown leather band. He examines it all carefully, noticing the protections carved and burnt into the watch and band; it looks very old and he thinks for a long moment before he realizes where he has seen it before. “It is beautiful, Sam, thank you,” he says looking up at his boyfriend. “But, why?” he wonders. 

Sam smiles, “You know where I got it?” Olle nods and Sam smiles, “I want you to have it.” 

Olle sets the time before winding the watch and putting it on. When he is done, he asks, “When did Samuel give it to you?”

“Not long after we met,” he answers. “In the end, he was an evil bastard and Dean and I had nothing for the man, but that,” he points at the watch, “had apparently been in the Campbell family for a long time. I want you to have it.”

“You're okay with this?” he asks, looking up from his wrist to Dean. 

Dean nods, “I fucking hated the son of a bitch. If it's something Sam wants you to have, take it; I absolutely don't want it if it was Samuel's.”

“Last one,” Olle grins at Sam, holding the box up for everyone to see. 

The hunter reaches out, then, to take Olle's hand. “Actually,” he says suddenly, “Can you wait until we're alone to open that one?” 

“Sure Sammy,” Olle says siting the down the box and taking the hunter's hand, lacing their fingers together. “Whatever you want.” 

Sam smiles and nods, “My turn now, I guess.”


	69. Chapter 69

Sam goes in for the smallest of the three packages on the table, all from Olle. Pulling at the paper, Sam quickly reveals a small wooden box and, opening it, the bracelet Olle made him. Taking it out of the box to examine, Sam listens while Olle goes over everything the different symbols are supposed to accomplish. When he is finished, Sam puts the bracelet on his right wrist and leans over to kiss Olle deeply before saying, “It's beautiful, thank you.”

Olle smiles, “Just, promise me you'll wear it when you're hunting so I know you're safe Babe, please?”

Sam nods, “I promise.” Reaching for his next gift, an oblong box, he looks at Olle and says, “I'm pretty sure I know what this is,” before he unwraps it to reveal the blade Olle made with Cas' blood. “Thank you Olle,” he says before turning to his friend, “Thanks Cas, this is awesome and I can't wait to use it.” Sam puts the blade down and notices there are three different leather sheaths in the box; for calf, belt, and back. Putting those aside for further examination later, he pulls the largest box toward himself and hefts it to check the weight. “It's heavy,” he says before giving it a shake; it make a soft rustling noise but nothing indicative of what is inside. “Will I like it, Dean?” he asks his brother, knowing he was with Olle when he picked up his gifts. 

“Honestly don't know, Sam,” his brother admits. “I was fiddling with my phone and not paying attention.” 

Sam chuckles, shaking his head as he tears into the paper. Once the box is revealed, he opens the lid and lifts out a very, very old leather bound, hand written book. Opening the cover, there is an intake of breath before Sam quietly exclaims, “Is this? The Wife of Bath,” he reads, “and other assorted tales of Pilgrimage by Geoffrey Chaucer. Is this an original copy of The Canterbury Tales?” He thumbs through several pages before looking up at Olle in awe. 

The big man shrugs, “I know you deal in rare, ancient books all the time, but you have a well read copy of that in your room and it's not exactly an original but it is Chaucer's final draft of each of them. They were hand copied and bound by a bookmaker as Chaucer wrote each one. They should be in the order he wrote them, not the order they are in now. It's been enchanted to prevent deterioration so you can read it as many times as you want and light and air won't hurt it.” He is slightly embarrassed, blushing even, but he beaming as he finishes because he can tell Sam really likes this gift. 

Dean claps his hands together and says, “Finally, my turn,” when Sam does not say anything for a long minute, looking through his book. He jerks up, at Dean's words and puts the book down as his brother starts to pick through his five rather large boxes. 

Sam notices, then, an envelope sticking out from under the box his book was in and pulls on it, to reveal the words, “To Sam. From Lucifer.” He looks up at the archangel, a question in his eyes and watches him pull out his phone. After a moment, Sam is checking his text messages. “Read it, burn it, talk to me about it, or don't. I just wanted you to have it. I just need you to know. I'm so sorry. Merry Christmas.”

Four of Dean's five boxes are from Olle and, he notices how strange it is, but the other is from Lucifer. He is curious about that one, but not sure he really wants anything the angel could give him; he is not sure he even trusts him yet. He grabs the box he is pretty sure is the blade Olle made him, it is shaped just like the one Sam opened. 

Sure enough, the first box is his knew blade and Dean pulls it out for everyone to see, making sure to point out the three leather sheaths. The next box, one of two identical ones from Olle, is a case of three bottles of Pappy Van Winkle bourbon and Dean hopes the other box is, also, $9,000 worth of whiskey he does not intend on sharing. Before confirming his suspicions, though, he picks up the box from Lucifer. “Okay Luce,” he says with a smiles on his face as he hefts the gift in both hands, “what's in the box?”

Lucifer smiles at his tone, shaking his head, “Not, I promise, Gwenyth Paltro's head.”

“Pity,” Dean says with a shrug. “Did you know she's a Leviathan?” 

“How many of them are still lurking out there?” he wonders while looking over at Mlojnir where it rests on the table in front of his brother. 

Sam laughs, “I wish we'd gotten to Trump before he ran for office.”

“Fuck I know,” Olle shudders. “But, at least I see the Leviathan and I don't have to look at Trump any more. That batshit crazy pumpkin grates on my last nerve! I was there at the founding and he, this, is not what this country was founded to become; Leviathan or pumpkin!”

“Hey, hey,” Dean says quickly. “Let's stop talking politics and get back to my presents!” He chuckles and starts to rip into the package. It is a large wooden box, about four feet long a foot wide. Dean stares at it for a few moments before he slides it open and breathes a soft, “Son of a bitch.” Reaching into the box, he lifts Michael's archangel blade out, knowing, somehow, what it is as soon as he sees it. He looks up at Lucifer and asks, “Why would you give me this? Me, of all people?”

“It is yours by rights, Dean,” Lucifer says simply. “As the last living vessel of the archangel Michael, you would have been the wielder of his blade on Earth. I shouldn't have taken it,” he is shy again, looking at his hands. “It was right there, though, and I was,” he does not want to tell him all he was afraid so he says it so softly it is barely a whisper; they hear him anyway. “I picked it up and ran from the Cage, but I hid when I heard voices on the other side of the door, in the anti-chamber. That's how I found the seal.”

“Lucifer,” Dean says seriously, “it was a wonderful gesture, but I can't take this. Here,” he turns the blade, hilt first, toward the archangel, “he was your brother, you should have it.” 

The angel cringes, pushing his chair back to get away from the blade while he shakes his head. Olle, knowing what Michael did with the blade, reaches across Sam and puts a hand on Dean's arm. “Would you want Alistair's filet knife Dean?” he asks quietly. “He gave it to you as a peace offering, take it.”

Dean sits back, shocked by Olle's words, and puts the blade down on the table. Nodding his head, he says, “Thank you Lucifer, I'll keep it safe.”

Gabriel looks stricken by Olle's words as well, he is holding his brother's hand, fingers laced together, and has actually moved their chair's closer so their knees are touching. Olle nods at Lucifer, who smiles and nods in return while Dean opens his second case of Pappy Van Winkle. 

Looking down at his last gift, Dean shakes his head and turns to Olle, “This can't be what I think it is, can it?” Dean has rightly assumed it is a case of dragon forged weapons. 

Olle smiles, “Open the box Winchester and I'll explain it to you.”

Dean opens the gift and looks up at Olle, “This is not the one from the armory.” There are subtle differences in each case and the hunter notes where this one varies from the one downstairs. 

Opening the case and examining each weapon, as well as the leather sheathing, Dean notes there are also differences in each blade from its twin and listens while Olle speaks, “This one came from Lucifer's crypt, where the angel tablet was hidden. It belonged to Cain and passed from Enoch and his brothers down their line. When the time came, Lucifer was locked away, Cain reclaimed the weapons and hid them. When his line was strong again, he passed them back into their hands. How the case came together again,” the immortal says, “how Azazal came to have it, I do not know. It was Cain's, though, and that makes it yours by blood right; as much or more than Michael's blade.”

Dean shakes his head almost sadly, looking up at Olle, “You'll keep it,” he asks, “when I'm,” but he trails off and laughs, “Since there won't be anyone to give it to.”

Olle nods his head once, “No one else who ever uses it will not know where it came from or who came before them. You'll both be the monster in the closet and under the bed of every evil thing from now, until the end of time; if I have anything to say about it.”

Dean nods once; satisfied, not realizing he is already the scary story, the thing in the closet, of every evil thing out there. 'Be smart, be subtle, don't get caught,' the wind whispers to them, 'or the Winchester brothers will find you.'


	70. Chapter 70

Hours after Dean is finished with his gifts, everyone has gone their separate ways. He did force them all to sit and teach Lucifer Cards Against Humanity while they ate mountains of confections the hunter and Gabriel had concocted over the past week; they call it lunch, Olle and Sam argue that point for all of three seconds before they realize it is hopeless. 

Dean has retreated to his room, to make space on the wall for all of his new weapons, while Cas is busy discovering his new room. Sam and Olle take Balthazar and go back to Kansas City to turn Olle's new truck into a proper hunting vehicle. 

Kevin, unbeknownst to everyone, has started spending a lot of time with Metatron. At first, he was releasing anger for what the scribe had done to him by screaming and threatening the man. Now, though, he will talk to the man for hours. The former angel never talks back, but Kevin does not seem to mind, he just stands outside the door and tells him stories about his childhood or reads to him from the children's books Lucifer said he found most helpful. 

Gabriel has taken to wondering the halls of the Bunker absentmindedly thinking, when his research becomes overwhelmingly void of anything useful. Sometimes Lucifer will join him but the trickster-archangel assumes he has retreated to his room to comb through all the books he just received. Linda, the small book Lucifer got her clutched in her hand, disappeared into Kevin's room sometime in the middle of their game earlier and has not been seen since. 

Beth is in her room trying to pack what she can here, before going back to the house to finish, so she and Balthazar can head to Paris. A knock on the door pulls her from the stacks of clothes on the bed and she calls over her shoulder, “Yes?”

Lucifer opens the door and asks, “Can I come in?” When she nods, he does so before closing the door and looking around. The room looks almost exactly like Olle's room, overlarge bed, couch, fridge, but it is done in shades of brown instead of dark blue; the walls are chocolate and the floor is cream colored wood lamenant. The archangel takes a seat on the ottoman that is also a coffee table while Beth drops on the couch. He smiles at her softly and says, “I didn't want to embarrass you earlier, but I have a gift for you.” 

“Embarrass me how?” she wonders, curious. “I don't think you'd do anything lewd,” she smiles to herself, “and I'm not easily shocked.”

He smiles happily and she realizes he saves these genuine smiles up for times when they mean something to him. “You and Olle are very private people, no matter how much truth you tell. You save pieces of yourself for yourself and I wouldn't want you to feel forced to explain something private to anyone, just so you don't have to lie.” With that, he reaches both hands out and a vase of carefully selected flowers appears. He sits them on the end-table before turning back to her. “As long as I'm alive,” he tells her quietly, “they will never wilt, they will never die; you won't even need to water them. But,” he reaches out to take her hand in his hand, “I would like to add to those, these,” a large potted aloe plant appears between the wall and the couch and a small flowering cactus sits beside her vase of flowers. 

Beth stares at the angel, then the bouquet of globe amaranth, anemone, liatris and plumeria. “How,” her voice is quiet, soft, and Lucifer notes she is shaking, “how did you know? Do you know what they all mean?”

He lets go of her hand and runs his hand up the inside of her jean clad thigh, stopping over the only tattoo she has that Olle does not; a near exact rendering of this group of flowers. “Immortality and hope, transition and death, protection, shelter, and security for someone you cherish, and liatris, the never ending struggle to always keep fighting. You forgot the cactus, endurance and bravery, and I see the sorrow and the integrity and the wisdom of aloe.” He squeezes her thigh and smiles again, “Although you may only see your bitterness, the rest is there. Thanking Olle for saving me from the Pit isn't enough when you were there every day, in the beginning, to answer questions and speak softly, to help me understand and to teach me.” She is crying and he uses his other hand to brush unruly hair, where she had taken it down and let it fly free, from her face and tuck it behind her ear. Cupping her face, he says quietly, “Thank you Beth.”

She moves then, to the ottoman, straddle his lap, arms wrapped around him in a fierce hug he returns while she mumbles in his ear, “Thank you.” 

One arm around her waist, other hand splayed between her shoulder-blades, Lucifer lets her pull away long enough for them to share a curious look before she leans in and kisses him. Her lips are soft and gentle and he kisses her back, opening his mouth to add moisture but neither moves to deepen the kiss or make it more than what it is. After a moment, she backs totally way, no longer touching him, legs bent, arms wrapped around her shins, “I'm sorry,” she says urgently. “I,” she shakes her head, “it wasn't meant to be more than a thank you and I didn't forget, I just wasn't thinking.”

Lucifer smiles again, he notices he does that a lot with her around, and leans forward to help her relax and unfold her legs back into the floor before he kisses her again, quickly. “I kissed you back, and I enjoyed it. It doesn't mean I want to have sex with you. I understood what you were doing. Don't apologize; I enjoy affection.”

Scratching a hand through her hair she looks at him sideways and, smiling, says, “You get precious little of it. I'm sorry about that. It is strange for most people, to be affectionate without being sexual with someone who isn't a blood relative. I will start to think more about that. You deserve it just as much as anyone and, as long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable, I'll remember to do it more often.”

Getting up to make his way toward the door, the archangel says, “That would be nice.” 

In the open doorway, Beth reaches up and kisses him again before saying, “Thank you for the gift, it was really very thoughtful and I'll treasure it.”

“You're welcome,” he says happily, cupping her face and tangling his hand in the curls at the nape of her neck. 

Beth nearly purrs, leaning into the touch and laughs, eyes still close, “You're far too good at kissing and this, it gives a person ideas that are about as far from ace friendly as you can get.” Looking up at his smiling face, she grins, “Thanks for the flowers angel, now,” she backs up and gives his chest an affectionate shove, “get outta here; I gotta pack.”


	71. Chapter 71

Lucifer turns to see Gabriel staring at where Beth just disappeared behind her door. “What?” he asks with a shrug, not sure what the look on his brother's face means.

“You just full on, open mouth kissed one of the hottest women I've ever seen,” the angel says confused. “I thought you didn't go in for all that?”

“I kissed her Gabriel,” the devil answers, starting off down the corridor, his brother following along beside him. “That does not mean I did, or want to, bend her over the nearest available surface. I enjoy affection, little brother, I just don't understand why so many believe it has to lead to sex.”

“Because it does!” the trickster-archangel exclaims, stopping his brother with an outstretched arm. “If you can look at that,” he points down the corridor toward Beth's room, “and not want to sink balls deep into it on principle, I don't know how to deal with that!”

“So why haven't you?” he asks, crossing his arms to stare down at his suddenly flustered little brother. 

After a few failed attempts to speak, the littlest archangel finally says, “Balthazar wouldn't appreciate it very much, don't you think?”

Lucifer scoffs, “You don't expect me to believe that, do you? That they aren't going to fuck their way across France for the next week? Menage a, what, twelve or something, probably!” He leans into the wall, crossing his ankles, and asks, “Try again little brother, why haven't you just wrecked her, as Dean would say?”

Gabriel stands there for a few moments before a gleam beings in his eye and he says, “Maybe I will,” before turning to stalk back down the corridor and knock on Beth's door. 

Lucifer shakes his head and moves himself into his room, knowing that is going to end badly and wishing he had not given in to the urge to goad his brother. He had hoped it would lead to Gabriel admitting Olle was his reason and they could have a serious talk about Sam and Olle and his brother's need to talk to Cas. He seriously underestimated Gabriel's ability to repress and deflect. 

**  
Beth opens her door smiling, but it quickly fades as Gabriel presses himself into her and attempts to take her mouth. The feeling threatens to overwhelm her for a few precarious seconds and she nearly melts into letting him have whatever he wants, but she pushes him away and asks, harshly, “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” 

“Giving you a proper Christmas gift,” the archangel laughs, leaning into her again, but she backs into the room and he follows, stumbling after her. 

Beth is white hot rage and narrow, red tinted sight; she turns from him before she lashes out but, unfortunately, sees the jewelry box he gave her earlier. Grabbing the box, she turns and flings it at him before saying, “Get out Gabriel!”

Caught against his chest, he looks down at the box before looking back up at her to ask, “What was that for?”

A frustrated growl escapes her chest and she stalks over to shove him into the door and barks, “You only ever give me rubies when you think something better's come along! Olle got the bag and I got jewelry so, what, he's disposable and I'm the something better now? Fuck you Gabriel, take your petty conscious gift and go screw yourself!”

His whole demeanor changes, and his tone becomes furious and devastated, “Do you have any idea what it's like for me to watch him with Sam? To look at you smiling at Baz like he makes you happy and knowing, hearing, him make you cum so hard you have to laugh it feels so good!” He throws the box aside, forgotten in his anger. “I lied to Sam earlier, told him Olle was miserable, desperate, jerking himself awake calling for him when it's my name stuck in the back of his throat and screaming from the inside of his skull! I love you!” he says harshly, taking her by both arms and shaking her with a force that would injure a normal human. “It doesn't matter to me what you look like, how spread apart you are, and I've been trying to stay away from you because I know I'm a weak willed bastard who'll let Creation crumble around him if it means getting to have you!” He lets her go then, backing into the door while she moves as far away as the room allows. He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head before going on calmly, “I don't know what I was thinking when I knocked on your door, except I didn't want to talk to Lucifer about either of you or Cas. I didn't mean to hurt you or upset you.” He sighs, going over to pick up the jewelry box, “These,” he tosses them on the bed, “were really just meant to make you happy. The first time I gave them to you was horrible, I'll admit that, and I deserved it when you gave them back to me, but I wasn't trying to make a point this time.”

“I think you need to go,” Beth says seriously, arms crossed over her chest and one hand around her throat. Her anger is gone, she is calm and decisive. “I think you need to stay away from me, from us, until you've worked out the situation with Cas and decided how you want to be with us from now on. And, baring our simultaneous demise and the mutual scrambling of our collective consciousness, I won't tell him about any of this.”

“Why?” Gabriel asks tilting his head to side, confused. 

“Because the last thing he needs right now, so soon after getting things straightened out with Sam, is so find out what you did or how hard this is on you.” She does not move but she smiles at him sadly, “We love you just as fiercely as you do us and, honestly, even you trying to push him away wouldn't stop him if he found out about this.”

“What's stopping you, then?” he wonders, confused. 

She smiles ruefully, shaking her head, “I'm not even half as much of him as he is and I don't have the luxury of thinking of myself as a whole person. If he can't have you, I won't even let myself want you.”

He shakes his head, opening the door, and says, “You both deserve so much more than I've ever given you. Enjoy Paris Bethy, and don't let Baz talk you into anything you can't fuck or kill your way out of.” He chuckles, closing the door and Beth sinks down to the floor, against the nightstand and the bed, crying.


	72. Chapter 72

After what just happened with Beth, Gabriel knows he needs to talk to his brother, try to find a way to tell him what they are to each other, and help him remember. Stopping in the corridor, though, he is taken over by panic; what if Cas rejects him, again? Gabriel is not sure he can take listening to his brother tell him he allowed himself to be drug back to Heaven because he no longer wanted to be with Gabriel, even just as they were; friends, brothers, confidants. He needs Cas, now, though; misses him and what they were to each other, because Lucifer tries, but no one, besides Olle, knows him like Cas. He needs to talk to his brother about the immortal, ask his advice, and try to figure out how to keep himself from doing, again, what he just did to Beth; listening to her cry nearly sent him back through her door.

Gabriel finds Cas in his new room, sitting on the bed, cycling through Netflix. He had thought about knocking, afraid Cas might be enjoying Balthazar's gift, but a perverse part of him wanted, if that was the case, to catch his brother in the act. They never had a sexual relationship, and part of the archangel has always been curious about what it would be like to be with Cas like that. The possibility of stumbling into that, accidentally on purpose, is exciting and he is disappointed the younger angel is merely looking for something to watch. 

“Hello Gabriel,” Cas intones surprised; his brother tends to avoid being alone with him. “Is something wrong?” his first thought is something has happened, but Gabriel shakes his head.

Sitting down on the bed, knee bent up so he can face him, Gabriel says, “Hey Cas, can I talk to you?” He is nervous, hesitant, and unsure exactly how to start or what to say, but when his brother nods he has no choice but take a deep breath and start talking. “I,” he laughs and runs a hand through his hair, “I didn't get you anything for Christmas,” he starts. 

Cas sits up, folding his legs in front of him, and shakes his head, “I didn't get anything for anyone either, Gabriel, except Balthazar. I tried to give Dean,” he stops and shakes his head. “Please don't feel badly; it isn't important.”

Gabriel laughs a little jaggedly, looking up at the ceiling before his gaze drifts back to his brother, “We keep talking about what happened in the beginning, and including you in the conversation, but you don't remember any of it; do you?”

Cas shakes his head, “Lucifer said he and Olle are searching for a way to repair the damage done to my Grace and, once that is accomplished, I thought that will make me remember?”

Gabriel sighs, almost willing to let him believe that, but he needs someone to talk to and, if he is being honest with himself, he just misses being around Cas. “That's not completely true, Cas,” the archangel says quietly. “Do you remember anything?” he asks then, wanting Cas to somehow just know they are connected.

Cas is thoughtful for a while before he responds. “I don't know exactly,” he says slowly. “I sense the truth of all your words when the past is spoken of and I felt my Grace mingled with yours and Balthazar's and, you all speak of Legion but I don't remember him at all. But it is all there in the seal Lucifer gave you. I knew the Children of Eve when I saw them in Texas, though I have no idea how. And I was always suspicious of, and uncomfortably familiar with, Olle. I knew he was more than he said he was but I never knew how I knew.” He shifts around on the bed to face his brother directly and ask, “Why?”

This is his golden opportunity, the perfect chance to tell Cas about everything, about them. He opens his mouth to do just that, though, and the truth is not what comes out, “When we told you everything, the night Metatron nearly died, I helped you remember some things. I don't know, though, what Lucifer gave back to you the day we all met.”

Cas shakes his head, “I recalled the conversation, my time with Balthazar, the truth of what Olle is and what you were all trying to do. The memories you gave back to me were jumbled and confusing, I could tell there were gaps, huge gaps. Why?” Cas looks at his brother confused and curious; Gabriel has an almost pained look on his face and the younger angel wants, more than anything, to help him banish whatever it is making him look like that. 

Just open your mouth Gabriel, he thinks to himself, and tell Cas the truth! Make him remember it all, show him what you are to each other and finally, finally, ask him why he abandoned you; why he ruined Balthazar and Legion's lives! He opens his mouth and terror keeps the truth at bay again, “I gave you specific, pertinent information; until you're stronger, getting hit with everything could be too taxing to your Grace.” 

He is ashamed of himself, but his brother seems to trust him and, with a nod of his head, Cas turns on the bed and gestures to the TV, “Would you like to watch a movie with me Gabriel?” 

The archangel moves around on the bed until they are both leaned against the headboard and sighs, grateful just to spend time with his brother. “Sure Cas, but,” smiling, he grabs the remote from him, “I get to pick the movie.”

The younger angel just shakes his head, amused, and settles back to see what his brother is going to force him to watch; it can't, he thinks, be worse than the Three Stooges. When Gabriel chooses The Princess Bride, Cas is surprised and, although Metatron gave him knowledge of the film, he has never actually seen it so he settles in to see if in this, like so many things, the knowledge of something and the experience of it are different. 

After the movie, Gabriel turns to his brother and says, “Thanks Cas, that was fun.” 

The angel nods, “I enjoyed the movie much more than I ever thought I would, Gabriel, thank you. It is not something I would have chosen to watch on my own.”

The archangel shrugs, sliding off the bed and turning to look at his brother; scratching a hand through his hair awkwardly, he says, “No problem Cas, we'll have to do it again.”

Cas nods and, as his brother opens the door, calls out to him, “Gabriel,” the archangel turns, hand still on the knob, “Merry Christmas.”

He smiles, “Merry Christmas Cas,” he says happily before heading through the door.


	73. Chapter 73

While Gabriel and Cas are watching The Princess Bride, Lucifer knocks on Beth's door again and, going against everything his children's books have taught him about manners and boundaries, he lets himself in when there is no answer. Apparently having changed her mind about the stacks of clothes she had out earlier, Beth is standing at the side of the bed stuffing a few clothes and a meager amount of toiletries into a large backpack. She has showered, Lucifer notes, her hair a long tight braid down her back and she is wearing the blue sweater Balthazar got her for Christmas with a pair of boot cut, dark wash jeans and chocolate colored hiking boots. Her leather jacket is thrown on the end of the couch and she turns to him, eyes red, puffy, and bloodshot, but expression as hard as stone; he has seen that cold, determined glare from the immortal before; eons ago, and knows she is anything but alright. “You've been around Sam and Dean long enough, the lack of manners is rubbing off,” her tone wants to be light, but he can tell she is upset. 

“I'm sorry,” he says right away, meaning it. “About Gabriel. I never would have,” he comes further into the room and stands in front of her, reaching out to take both of her hands in his. “I wanted to get him talking, I just,” he trails off, wishing he could take back what he had done to make his brother storm in here and upset her.

She smiles at him sadly, her expression cracking. She gives his hands a squeeze, “No one knows better than Olle and I, the lengths he'll go to, to avoid and deflect. I got angry and he got angry back, it's bound to happen a time or two, for me and Olle, and we'll just have to deal with it.” She lets go of his hands and goes over to pick up her jacket, “Me being gone this week, Olle being back with Sam, will help.” Pulling on her jacket, Lucifer follows her movements as she goes over to sling her pack on her back, she comes back into his space and kisses him on the cheek, “Don't worry,” she chuckles a little, “our last major argument was at Pompeii.”

“He did that?” Lucifer asks astonished. 

Sheepish, she grins, “I did that. I cut his throat with a fairy blade and threw him into the volcano.”

Lucifer just shakes his head, his brother's Grace, trying to heal himself, together with his anger and what was probably no small amount of astonishment, could have triggered the eruption. He has to ask, “Did you die there or manage to escape?”

“I just thought it would piss him off,” she laughs. “The eruption was a few days later; I'd left for Crete by then.” Shifting her pack around, she says, “I'm going to get Baz to take me to Olle and then, I guess, we're going to go.”

Lucifer shakes his head, “I'll send you to Kansas City. Enjoy your holiday,” he says before he snaps. 

**

Beth finds herself standing in the garage of the house in Kansas City. Balthazar grins when he sees her, leaning into the far wall of the building, “Bethy! Ready to go Love?”

She smiles, wishing, suddenly, she had asked the archangel to do something about her face because she can tell the angel's expression changes when he notices her puffy, bloodshot eyes. She smiles at him, though, happily, and says, “I want to talk to Olle first, but, yeah, ready when you are!” 

“Sam,” the angel says turning toward the truck. 

The shorter of the two men looks up from the bed, “Yeah?”

Gesturing to Beth with his head before giving a long stare at Olle, the angel says, “Let's go grab some beer and you two take a brake.”

Sam nods, while Olle looks up and they both jump over the side. Sam follows the angel into the kitchen while Beth makes for the tailgate, where Olle is sitting; one leg bent up, the other swinging slightly. 

Olle notes, right away, something is off. She was too excited about this trip, and too enthusiastic about packing earlier, to be standing here with one small pack thrown over her shoulder. He reaches out and pulls her into him with a hand around her neck, he can tell, this close, she has been crying. He asks, quietly, into the top of her head where she is pressed into his chest, “What happened that you aren't positively laden with bags?”

She laughs, almost starting to cry again, and wants to rub her face into his chest, but her makeup is pretty fucking flawless and she has no desire to pull away and look like a raccoon who got caught with its face in week old garbage. Staying where she is, she wraps her arms around his waist and answers him as best she can while absolutely not telling him what happened, “I got a tattoo a few months ago. You don't have to worry,” she says, finally looking up at him with a smile, “it's just regular ink. Luce, he gave me this wonderful, thoughtful Christmas gift and,” she laughs, “it just made me weepy.”

Olle nods, letting her go and watching her hop up beside him. She is lying to him, he knows as soon as he looks at her, but about what and why he has no idea; he is willing to let it slide, she must have a damn good reason. “What's the tattoo,” he asks. 

“It's just a bouquet of flowers,” she says. “You'll understand if you go look in my room.” She laughs again, confused, and shakes her head, “He thanked me, for being with him after we got him out of Hell. He,” she marvels at it now that she really thinks about it, “he treated me like a person, a real, whole person.”

Olle feels terrible, reaching out for her, cupping her whole head with the size of his hand, “God, I've fucked you up haven't I? You are,” he looks at her sincerely, “you are a whole person, a real, whole person, Beth; as much as I am!”

She shakes her head, leaning into his touch at the same time as she is rejecting his words, “I'm not. You know I'm not.” Sliding down to the floor, she turns to him, “It's okay. I feel more real, now, like this, than we ever did before the curse. You're us, Olle,” she says with a smile. “You are the fulfillment of the curse. You are who we are, were, should have always been. I can't be anything but an afterthought, a walking, talking Pensive, when you are us, all of us.”

“You're more than that,” a voice says from behind them and they turn to see Balthazar and Sam at the front of the truck, each with two beers in hand. The angel comes around the truck and puts both bottles down on the tailgate, “I hate that you don't see it in yourself, Love,” the angel says, pulling her into his chest. He leans down to take her mouth in a lingering, affectionate kiss before pulling back to look her in the eye and say, “He looks at you and sees everything about himself he never understood, never liked, never accepted, and he understands, he likes, he accepts. He loves. You are him as much as he is and that makes him you and much as you are. The two of you fit together like,” he smiles, “like me and Lee. You're made for one another because you're made of one another. Learn to revel in it,” he says sagely, “and don't question it.”

“Fuck,” Olle swears, tears in his eyes. He is determined to give the Grigori commander back to the angel now; if he has to turn Rowena inside out to do it. He feels arms around him then, Sam pressed against his back as he sits down behind him, and he leans into him, taking hold of the younger Winchester's arms while he watches Beth lose her battle with more tears and burrow into the angel. He still cannot figure out why she is not telling him the whole truth, but, like Sargon, he knows it must be to spare his feelings and he can let her, for now.


	74. Chapter 74

Once Balthazar and Beth have wondered upstairs, probably to sully the sheets and make off with his Tom Ford luggage, Olle turns himself around in Sam's arms and marvels at the hunter for a quiet moment. Sam is undeniably sexy, ruggedly handsome with miles of long, lean muscle, the strong, rough hands of a man who knows how to use them to kill or calm, and eyes brimming with intelligence, compassion, and understanding; it is easy to want nothing more than to drown in him every time you look at him, the immortal thinks and gets a sudden, anguished pain in chest at the thought that, far sooner than he will be able to deal with, Sam will be dead and all this will be gone. He grabs him, hauling him forward and kissing him roughly; trying to quash the pain with pleasure. When they finally break for air, Olle has to stop himself from sighing out those three words that would totally fuck up what he has so recently gotten back. He smiles, instead and reaches out for one more small kiss to Sam's still panting lips and says, “I brought that gift. Is it okay if I go ahead and open it?” 

He goes around to the front seat and grabs the package before returning to the tailgate. Sam runs a hand through his hair and says, “Yeah, you can open it now.” Olle is careful about peeling away the paper to reveal a small white box. Inside is a rosary, black onyx and silver from the look of it, and it looks hand made. He takes it out, holding it against his skin and admiring it carefully. 

Before he can ask, Sam says, “I made it for Dad, when I was about ten,” his voice is rough and Olle looks up at him; giving him something of John's is important. 

“Sammy,” Olle says taking more care, now, with the rosary as he takes in every detail and notices where a ten year old Sam worked with small, inexpert hands to carve the mold for the silver and shape the stones, “this is wonderful, but it belonged to John. I, I shouldn't take it.” Letting Sam give him Samuel's watch was one thing, both brothers were right when they said they had nothing for the bastard, but, whatever kind of man their father was, they both loved him. 

When Olle goes to hand the rosary back to Sam, he hunter shakes his head, cupping Olle's hands and pushing them back into his chest, “This is the only thing I ever gave the man, besides a hard time,” Sam smiles wryly. “It is the only thing I ever gave him, and he kept it. I want you to have it.” 

Olle worries, after what Dean said just a few hours ago, that he is being given family heirlooms because he will remember, always, when the brothers have no one else to pass these treasures to. It is a burden he has born before, but it never sits right with him and, this time around, it hurts just a little too much. Olle looks at the gift for a long moment before he cups Sam's face with the hand holding the rosary and kisses him.

“Thank you Sam,” he says simply and Sam smiles, shy and dimpled, in return. 

Olle wants to run his hand through Sam's long hair, but is afraid he will get the rosary tangled in the soft locks, so he sits back and puts the gift back in its box before setting it with his phone and the truck keys, in the cab of the vehicle. 

“When we get done here,” Olle says leaning on the rear of the truck, smiling at Sam, “do you want to stay or head back to the Bunker? I'd like to drive, if that changes your answer any at all.”

Sam pushes himself into the back of the truck and stands while Olle climbs up behind him. “We can head back tonight,” the hunter says. “I've spent my life on the road, it doesn't bother me,” Sam chuckles as they get back to work. 

**

When Gabriel gets back downstairs to his research, he finds Lucifer sitting at the desk reading through a stack of what he is certain, like everything else he has come across, is mostly unhelpful nonsense. The Devil looks up at his brother and asks, “What did you do after you ran away from me that made Beth cry? And did you tell Cas what was going on with the two of you?” 

Gabriel's steps falter because, although his brother's tone is even and curious, there is a hard edge to it he knows means Lucifer is upset with him. He knows he should have taken the given opportunity to tell Cas about them, and he knows he should not have done what he did with Beth, but he is also angry at his brother for assuming he has the right to even ask. His anger, he will admit to himself, but no one else, is more a reaction to being called out on what he knows he shouldn't have done, but he will use it, for now, to make himself feel better, “Why do you think it is even any of your business, Lucifer, huh?”

His brother snorts, shaking his head, before making eye contact with Gabriel where he stands at the edge of the table glaring down at him, “I have the right to be worried about you, little brother, because I love you. I have the right to be worried about Cas, and what your continued stalling will ultimately do to him, because he, too, is my brother and I love him. I have the right, Gabriel,” he says standing up to glare down at his brother, eyes blazing with irritation instead of Grace, “to worry about Beth, about Olle, about Creation, because they tend to be the only thing standing between you and your indifference!” 

Gabriel steps back, shocked, and turns to pace, “You're afraid, if I manage, after everything, to finally turn them away from me, I'll lose interest in stopping Amara?” He turns to face his brother, who is leaning, arms and ankles crossed, on the edge of the table, expectantly. The younger angel laughs, but it is not a happy sound, “I've tried to turn them from me before, it never works. And I'm not giving up this fight,” he says with conviction. “If she wins, we all cease to be,” he gets quiet, “Olle ceases to be. I can give up a lot of things, I can lose everyone, but not him.” He is being honest, he doesn't miss Heaven, Michael, even their father, but the idea of something happening to Olle because he didn't do everything he could, even the thought makes him ravenous for a way to stop his aunt. 

“Okay little brother,” the archangel sighs before turning serious, “but you gotta find a way to go on without making them feel guilty for just being. And you gotta talk to Cas,” he says seriously. 

Gabriel just nods and they both sit down to continue their research.


	75. Chapter 75

Beth lounges against Balthazar's chest, enjoying the hot water in the enormous clawfoot tub in the apartment Olle, she, they, have owned in Paris since right after the revolution. The angel does not need to sleep but they are both drifting lazily in that state of in-between and Beth does not want to break that spell, but has to say, “Thank you, Baz, for earlier. For letting me be a mess, when I'm supposed to be the one holding you all together.”

“Nonsense, Love,” the angel says, rubbing his hands across her abdomen, where his arms are wrapped around her. “It doesn't matter how long any of us have been around, we are all just trying our best in a world full of chaos. Father never made anything perfect; I think that's the whole point.” 

She shifts herself around in the water until she is straddle his legs, arms around his neck, pressed against him, and smiles, brimming with affection, “I know it's hard, with Gabriel,” she starts, making a decision she will just have to live with, “but I love you and I want to tell you something.”

“You love all of us Bethy,” he says returning her smile, giving her hips a squeeze. “You always have, since the beginning. You can't help it,” he grins. “What do you want to tell me?”

She chuckles into the crook of his neck before sitting back on her heels, breasts bobbing in the top of the water, and she smiles, “It's about Legion.”

Balthazar sits back, crossing his arms in front of him in a protective display, “What about him?” he wants to know uncertainly. 

“If I tell you,” she starts, bracing her hands on the edges of the tub, “and you get angry at me for not coming clean earlier, for not fixing this or wanting to fix it sooner, I still need you to help me. I need you to help me fix it now.” She looks at him, waiting for a response. 

She realizes they have wound up on opposite ends of the tub, curled around themselves, staring each other down. The angel is curious, hesitant, and, from the look on his face, already a little bit angry, when he says, “Is he still alive? Were we both alive, running, hiding, and alone, before Cas killed me? Is he out there somewhere, fallen, hurt, with no memory?” 

He is anguished instead of angry by the time he finishes and Beth is quick to reassure him, “When he made his deal with Michael, it meant there were things he could not forget because it would affect his mission to find Metatron. That is why he rebelled against Michael and started hunting Grigori who were sent to hunt Gabriel and I. Not long after you fled the garrison, when rumor reached him you were dead, he allowed himself to be taken, in an attempt to confirm your death himself. When he was assured you were gone,” here she smiles in memory of the angel's actions, “he refused to allow himself to succumb to the will of Anna and Michael, so he escaped.”

“So he is alive?” Balthazar asks, leaning forward in the tub, elbows on knees. 

Beth shakes her head and scrunches her face in uncertain denial, “He was badly wounded when he found me, he was dying.” She reaches out to him then, her arm on his wrist, “I prayed to Gabriel, but he refused to allow your brother to heal him because he, we all, thought you were gone.” 

Balthazar pulls away from her then and laments, “Oh God, what have I done?”

Beth grabs the edge of the tub and pulls herself forward, splashing water over the edge and into the floor, to wind up in his lap, again, arms around his neck, holding him close before pulling back to look him in the eye, “Let me finish.” When the angel nods, wrapping his arms around her hips and settling back against the tub, she continues, “Gabriel made him remember everything, in an attempt to get him to allow himself to be healed, but he refused and, in grief and anger, your brother left.” She is not exactly sure how to tell this next part, but she hopes she can gloss over the one thing Balthazar will probably demand to know. “He wanted the chance to deal maximum damage to Michael. Even half dead, he was furious. He decided to fall,” she says seriously. “He asked for my help and,” she pauses, wondering if she is doing the right thing, if she did the right thing all those years ago, “I agreed to help him.”

“What did you do?” Balthazar wonders ominously. 

“I became his vessel,” she says, knowing she is going to tell him all of it and hoping he does not tear off demanding answers from the last being, besides Amara, who needs to know he is alive. “He found a suitable host, and I helped him make a deal with the witch who became his mother. She promised to care for him and he would allow her the use of what power simply possessing his Grace would give her.” When the angel makes a furious, strangled, noise, she nods her head, “He knew the risk, and I ensured his Grace was contained in such a way she could do no more than carry it with her as protection. She had no idea he was an angel, no idea what she was agreeing to really, but I was supposed to be with her until the child came of age and, then, I was going to take him.”

“What happened?” he wants to know.

“Azazel,” she says bitterly. “Before he was born, villagers were being mauled by hounds in an attempt to find me and I couldn't stay; it put him, put everyone, in danger; so I fled. By the time I found him, he was in his fifties,” she says sadly. “His mother betrayed us, and broke her agreement,” there is anger in her voice, a clear desire to deal unspeakable damage to Rowena. “He was a hard man who had lived a hard life and I made another mistake when I found a psychic who could help me make him remember.”

“What did he do?” Balthazar needs to know.

She rubs her hands down his chest and keeps them there, looking at them instead of making eye contact because this is where she knows he is going to explode, “I tried to stop him, but he kept saying he knew exactly what he was doing. He was furious, bitter and angry,” she shakes her head. “He made straight for a crossroad and dealt himself a one way ticket to the Pit; determined to claw his way high enough on the food chain to rip it all down. Last I checked,” she says softly, looking up at him finally, “he's more than succeeded.”


	76. Chapter 76

Balthazar makes a sputtering, affronted noise and looks down at her incredulous, “You've got to be joking! Crowley?” When she nods, eyes wide, trying to convey her seriousness, he says it again, getting louder, “Crowley!” 

She gets dumped backwards into the still warm water when he stands suddenly and gets out of the tub to pace, dripping and naked, in front of the floor to ceiling windows. He is quiet for a long time, long enough for Beth to sit up and get her hair out of her face before pulling the stopper on the tub. She is still sitting in the now empty tub, arms around her knees, when he finally turns to her and speaks, “After everything that thing,” he is disgusted by Crowley if his tone is anything to go by, “has done, how can I ever get him back again? What do you want my help with?”

Beth looks up at him, far too small in a tub big enough for Olle, and says, “I want to find Legion's Grace and I want to cure Crowley and I want to give him back to you.” She cannot help but wonder, too, though, what he must think of her; Crowley has been in Hell less than four hundred years and she spent millennia doing horrible things there. 

“What if I don't want him back after what you let him become?” the angel yells at her, crisp, beautiful voice twisted with rage. 

God, she thinks, this was a bad idea. He was so excited about Paris and she ruined it. What the fuck was she thinking? Taking a deep breath, not confident enough to get out of the tub yet, she says, “We are going to need him, Legion or Crowley, but his Grace, the added power he could give us,” she tries to explain. “Lee was always a smug, brilliant bastard and if he were here to help us, without the threat of him being a demon, it could be monumental.”

“And you want me to, what? Whore myself out to the King of Hell so you can get close enough to pump him full of holy blood?” he asks, still yelling, as he stalks over to the tub and lifts her by the shoulders before shaking her more violently, even, than Gabriel had earlier. 

He lets her go and she slips on the wet porcelain; the only thing that saves her is the fact that her reflexes are inhuman. She sees now, he is still furious and screaming, but he is crying so hard she is beginning to hear the waver in his voice that she doubts he has even noticed. “I'd never ask you to do that,” she says quietly. 

When she steps out of the tub, he stalks to the window and stops, the unadulterated line of his back rigid, furious, and beautiful. She is crying now as well, she realizes, and she wants to go to him, wishes she were large enough to wrap herself around him and force comfort on him, but she stays where she is and tells him why she decided to tell him in the first place. “I want you to help me find his Grace. I wanted to tell you,” she laughs bitterly, “I wanted not to tell you like this, but I wanted to tell you when we were alone so you could process it all without the incredulity, shock, and anger Sam, Dean, and Gabriel are going to spew as soon as they find out.”

“How long has Lucifer known and why haven't you asked him for help?” he asks still not looking at her, but his tone is bitterly amused instead of furious now. 

“Thane told him after the spell Lucifer preformed to bind them during the Apocalypse,” she says moving slowly up beside him, close, but not reaching out to touch him. “I didn't ask him for help because he isn't in love with him, he isn't his soulmate, he isn't able to track Legion's Grace the way you are.”

The angel is quiet for a long time, both of them looking out the foggy windows over the snowy streets of Paris and the beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower still lit up for Christmas. Eventually, he turns to her and, noticing her tear-streaked face and the hand shaped bruises he left on her shoulders, he sighs, finally reaching out for her, “Awe Bethy, love, it's not your fault any more than it is mine; I guess.” He pulls her to him and she lets out an anguished sob at the touch, relieved he is not running away or trying to fight with her. 

“I'm sorry,” she says over and over, clinging to him and meaning it; about so many things. 

He mumbles soft, soothing nonsense noises while he settles his Grace around her; healing her bruises, drying her tears, he even detangles the ratty mess her hair became when he pushed her backwards into the water. “You're freezing,” he notices, looking down at her with a smile. 

With a soft hiccup, because he has dried her tears and cleaned her face, but he cannot do anything about her emotions, she smiles up at him, “I'm warm enough now. What are you going to do?” It is a tentative, worried question and she holds her breath waiting for an answer. 

“We,” he says with emphasis, “are going to bed and, tomorrow, doing everything on that marvelous itinerary you gave me while I think about all of this.” With a thought, they are snuggled together in the oversized bed, covered by the thick, fluffy duvet, and he smooths his hands along her body while thinking. 

When she drifts off to sleep, exhausted by the activity of the day almost as much as the two emotionally draining arguments she had, Balthazar gets out of bed and goes back to pacing. His initial burst of anger aside, he is proud of Legion for never giving up, for crawling his way up the ladder and, ultimately, doing, as a human soul, what Fallen had failed to accomplish: taking over Hell and managing to rule without causing a full blown civil war that poured out into the human world. Oh, he knows Crowley is evil and conniving, but he has also managed, on more than one occasion, to help Sam and Dean. With a thought, the small vial of Grace Gabriel gave him is in his hand and he stops pacing to stare at it. “Alright you bastard,” he says jovially to the vial, “I'm going to do this for you, and you're never leaving me again.”


	77. Chapter 77

After a few hours of trying to help Gabriel sort through the mountain of generally useless information compiled by the Men of Letters, Lucifer decides to go for a long walk and, labyrinthine as it is, the winding halls of the Bunker are the perfect place to allow your mind to mull over what it needs to while not being distracted by your surroundings. When he runs into Cas, seemingly doing the exact thing he is, he smiles quietly to himself and approaches his brother, “Hey Cas.” When the younger angel looks up, startled from his own thoughts, Lucifer says, “I didn't mean to disturb you.”

Cas shakes his head, “I was merely thinking. It is of little consequence, now. What are you doing?” he asks, genuinely interested. 

Lucifer sighs, “Thinking as well.” He gestures around them to the stark corridors, “It is the perfect place to allow your mind to wander without distraction. When,” he is almost shy, “when Gabriel's research, or my own, becomes too confusing or, as is most often the case, useless, I wander, and think, before going back to it again.”

Cas nods agreement and the brothers start to meander together. After a while, he turns to the archangel with a question, “Do you truly believe Gabriel will be able to find, or create, a spell strong enough to send Amara away again?”

Lucifer continues to walk for a while, finally ducking into the empty conference room Beth and Balthazar managed to get cleaned out a few days before. Cas follows and Lucifer sits with his brother, making eye contact before he speaks, “There is not a moment's doubt or hesitation for me; I'm certain Gabriel will find a way.” When Cas just nods, swept up his his eldest brother's unyielding faith in the younger archangel, Lucifer thinks for a moment before going on, “Once Olle and I are certain we have found a way to return your strength to you, Gabriel has promised me he will help you remember everything that happened before Michael made you all forget.” He sighs, “There is much you must remember, but you cannot deny you felt your Grace tangled with Gabriel, Balthazar, and Legion's inside the seal.” When Cas nods, again, Lucifer keeps talking, “There was strong magick used to forge the Cage, and stronger magick used to seal it and return a balance to Creation that my Wars, Olle's possession of the Mark, caused. Gabriel, and the rest of you, did that. I will never doubt he can do whatever he needs to in order to protect those he cares about, those he loves.” The devil reaches out and takes Cas' wrist, trying to emphasize his brother's feelings for the younger angel, but uncertain Cas understands. 

Cas gets up to pace for a moment, uncomfortable with his brother's touch and curious what he is trying to convey. He stops at the head of the table and, leaning on the chair in front of him, asks his brother, “Have you and Olle made any serious headway in finding a way to restore me?” As eager as he is to be whole again, he is also afraid to ask what it is Lucifer was trying to convey a moment ago.

Lucifer shakes his head, remaining seated, “We've come up with several options,” a notebook appears on the table in front of Cas and the angel takes a seat to read through his brother's notes. “Olle is convinced it will take a sacrifice of power to restore you and, loath though I am to agree to such a thing, all my research points in that direction.”

Cas sees the immortal is correct. All of Lucifer's notes seem to refer back to one tablet in Olle's possession and require the slow, torturous death of an angel. Shaking his head, he shoves the notebook down the table toward Lucifer, “I won't kill anyone to get back what I've lost.”

Lucifer shakes his head, “I know. I would rather not kill an angel, kill anyone, if we can find a way around it.” He sighs, then, “It would seem, however, that could be the only way. The tablet Olle has, the one I continually reference, speaks of taking power unwillingly given and using it to imbue a third party. The death of the angel could just be an assumption we are all making; it could merely make them human.” He sounds too hopeful, even to his own ears, and does not believe a word he just said, but hopes Cas might.

“Do you believe that's possible Lucifer?” Cas wonders. 

The archangel sighs, not willing to lie, outright, “I don't know, Cas. I want it to be, but I just don't know.”

“I suppose, then,” he looks down the table at his brother, “we just keep digging.” Lucifer smiles and they leave the conference room together, talking about their next move. 

**

Olle and Sam make it back to the Bunker at a little after two on Boxing Day. Parking beside the Impala, Olle goes around to open Sam's door; the hunter turns in his seat, wrapping his legs around Olle's waist and pulling the immortal into a searing, sleepy kiss. When they break for air, Olle lets the man slide down his body to the ground. Nuzzling into Sam's neck, he rumbles, “I want you inside of me, now.” 

Sam licks along Olle's ear before pulling the lobe between his teeth, getting a pleasant gasp from his boyfriend, before he growls, “Do you want to cum all over your new truck, bent over right here behind me, or do you think we can make it to your room?”

Olle growls, pulling Sam into him by the ass; each man feels the others arousal grinding into their hip. “As much as I'm looking forward to letting you do that, soon, the lube is in my room.” He backs away, pulling Sam by the hand, hungry grin on his face, as he heads for the steps inside the Bunker. 

At a near run to Olle's room, the two men round the corner, headed past Dean's room, and see the older Winchester coming out his bedroom door. Sam slows to a stop next to his brother, Olle following suit; their hands still laced together. “Hey Dean,” Sam says trying to catch his breath from their happy, aroused sprint. 

Dean chuckles almost sadly, and, running a hand through his hair, speaks, “Hey Sammy, you guys just get back?”

“Yeah, Dean,” Olle laughs, but he looks hard at the hunter, who looks, haunted would be a good word, but Dean always looks haunted to this is worse; something is really bothering him. “Are you okay?” he asks seriously, giving Sam's hand a squeeze before he lets it go and looks down at the younger Winchester, “I'll be waiting for you,” he drops a quick kiss to Sam's mouth before he leaves the brothers alone in the corridor.


	78. Chapter 78

Sam leans against the wall across form the corridor from where his brother is, arms crossed, backed against his door almost defensively, “What's going on Dean?” His brother looks uncomfortable, panicked, and it makes Sam itch with the need to both protect Dean and deal damage to who or whatever has gotten under his brother's skin like this. 

Dean hesitates a fraction too long in his denial and Sam knows his brother is struggling with something so he just waits. If you give Dean long enough, he will keep talking just because he finds the silence uncomfortable. Finally, the hunter pushes off the wall with a muttered curse and stalks through the corridor toward the library, and the whiskey. Turning a scowling face on his brother, he shoves a glass in his hand and asks, “Why are you standing here when you could be fucking Olle stupid right now?” He shakes his head on a laugh gone wrong and goes on, “If I had to pick between getting off and whatever sappy conversation you're gunning for, I'll taking fucking every time Sam.”

Sam laughs, turning up his glass as he leans in the library doorway watching his brother pace in mounting agitation. If it were the difference between getting his rocks off and talking Sam out of some downward spiral, Dean would be right where he is now; despite the almost painful ache in his groin. “Yeah Dean,” Sam says sarcastically, “sure you would.” Pushing off the doorway, he goes to his brother and, hand on his shoulder, directs them both to the table. “What's up with you?” Sam asks once they are sitting at the table. 

Dean shakes his head, turning up his glass again to empty it. When he goes to get up, to refill his glass, Sam puts a hand on his wrist and Dean flops back into chair at the look on his brother's face. “Cas man, it's Cas,” Dean says on a heavy sigh. 

“Okay,” Sam says drawing the word out, hoping Dean will elaborate. 

Dean is frustrated, not sure why he even said that, not sure whatever sent him pacing through his room and, finally, out his door even has anything to do with his best friend. He scrubs a hand through his hair and scowls down into his empty glass, “Did he,” Dean hesitates, not sure he wants to talk about this with anyone, “did he give you anything for Christmas Sammy?” he wonders finally, looking seriously at his brother's concerned face.

Sam chuckles, turning up his own glass for a small sip, “Yeah Dean, he did. We talked, he wanted,” Sam is serious and pleased, “he wants me to let him think of him as a brother.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, well, that's not exactly what he tried to give me.” 

A thousand different thoughts run through Sam's head, potential 'gifts' Cas could have tried to give his brother and, baring Olle's assumption Cas wants to jump Dean's bones, he cannot think of anything that would put his brother on edge. “What happened Dean?” he needs to know to help his brother climb down off this emotional ledge he has crawled up on. 

“He told me,” Dean's voice is gruff, he is staring into the glossy surface of the table, lost in memory, “he told me things I'd forgotten about Hell, Sam. He told me about what happened when he pulled me out.”

“Oh,” Sam says in dawning realization, “he finally told you what the brand means.”

Dean looks up sharply at Sam and asks, “You knew? You knew he owns me?” He shakes his head, not really even angry, just curious, “Why didn't you ever tell me? How did you figure it out? How long have you known?”

Sam shakes his head, surprised at Dean's lack of fury, and answers him, “I was angry I wasn't the one to save you,” he admits slowly. “I was as skeptical as you were, in the beginning, that angels rescued you from Hell.”

“Really Sam,” Dean cuts him off, “cause I remember you being all gunge-ho on the angels?”

Sam smiles, a small quiet laugh, “I came around fast enough,” he looks up at his brother seriously, “And I wasn't about to let you question your worth by agreeing with you.” Dean shakes his head, leaning back in the chair and looking at Sam, silently telling him to continue. Sam nods, “Anyway, mountains of research and,” he reluctantly admits, “a little help from Ruby, means I stumbled across a book.” He gets up here, and goes to a shelf, pulling down a book and, finding the right page, hands it to Dean, “ It elaborates on the one Bobby found, indicating angels were the only thing powerful enough to free a soul from Hell. It goes on to say, the demon soul must be defeated in battle and cleansed.” Dean nods, reading while he listens to Sam. “It also,” Sam points at an etching where Dean just turned the page, “mentions spoils of war.”

Dean leans back, “Yeah, that's what Cas said. He said,” Dean trails off, not really wanting to talk about it anymore and he closes the book, leaning back in his chair before he goes on, “He tried to give it back to me.”

“Your soul?” Sam says shocked. “The brand,” Sam sputters, “it's been gone for years, he hasn't given it back to you yet? Shit Dean, I'm sorry. If I'd known you didn't know all this time, I'd've told you! No wonder you're,” 

But Dean cuts him off with several frustrated shakes of the head, “Why now Sammy, huh? After all this time? What's wrong with me, now, that he wants rid of me?”

Sam is flabbergasted by Dean meek, insecure voice and has no idea what to say. Carefully, he leans forward, reaching for his brother, and, taking him by the wrist, pieces his words together delicately, “Cas said we're like his brothers, more family to him than his own ever was. Maybe, Dean, he has watched us keep secrets and hold grudges for so long and he's seen what it does to us. Maybe,” Sam says with a gentle squeeze of his brother's wrist, “he's just trying to be honest with you. Just trying to give you back something he doesn't feel has ever really been his.”


	79. Chapter 79

Dean will buy that, hell, isn't that what Cas told him in the first place? But, then, why does it bother him so much? Why has it been the only thing he can think about since they had the conversation last night? He is frustrated with himself for losing focus on the bigger picture, on Amara, and he pulls out of Sam's grip on his arm, finally getting up for more whiskey. Leaning against the table, full glass in hand, he looks over Sam still in chair at by the table, time to shift focus from himself and this Beaches moment he let his brother drag out of him. With a superior smirk, he turns up his glass then asks, “You finally ready to tell me what happened in your head that fucked you and Olle for so long?”

“You're deflecting,” Sam says turning his chair to face his brother. 

“Humor me,” Dean says with a jut of his chin, “I need a change of subject.”

Sam sighs, “I got, bored during the ritual.” Dean is immediately on guard but he lets his brother continue, “I stumbled across Lucifer's memories of Olle.”

“Yeah, stumbled, I'm sure,” Dean says turning up his glass again, agitated and worried about his brother. “What did you see?”

“A lot Dean. Fuck!” Sam shakes his head, “He's been with Gabe since the Beginning, man. How am I supposed to deal with that? I saw them together, Olle devastated, furious, broken when Gabe died,” Sam's voice is gruff, not only remembering but feeling Lucifer's own devastation. “When he got back,” Sam shakes his head, blowing air through his nose in a loud huff, “they're so in-love with one another.” He stretches his mile long legs out in front of him, leans back in his chair, and, hand through his hair, empties his glass. “Olle's branded, Dean, and it's recent; like while we were gone with Sully recent.” 

Dean comes back over to sit with his brother and shakes his head, “Did you talk to either one of them? Find out what happened? Seeing it all through Lucifer's eyes can't have given you the full story.” Dean wants to make this alright for his brother and, he realizes suddenly, Olle too. The immortal was devastated, and ill, the whole time Sam was angry and lost, but they seem to be okay again, both of them, and that makes Dean glad. 

“Olle, and Gabe, swear they're finished with one another, but,” he shakes his head again, looking up at the ceiling, “knowing their history, how can I believe them?”

Dean thinks, and says what he is sure will piss his brother off, but is true, “Olle wants you, and he cares about you. I've seen it for a while. It's obvious you care about him Sammy, you came out to me, finally! Do you think,” he is quiet, hesitant, “he'll leave you? You're not going to be around forever and what time you've got left is probably a drop in bucket to him. Let yourself be happy, man, without thinking about what's going to happen once we're gone.”

Sam drops his gaze to his brother with an amused, almost sad smile, “That's what I'm doing Dean. It's just, watching the two of them watch each other,” he shakes his head, “it's hard.”

Dean will admit, he had noticed and it must be difficult on Sam, but Olle has never lied to them and, he doubts the immortal would start now about something like this. “Okay Sam, I know it's got to be hard,” he remembers Lisa and how he felt when she said she was moving on, when Ben told him about her third date, and he wonders how he would have reacted to having to watch that; then he realizes he is sympathizing with Gabriel and not his brother so he shakes his head. “Just, try to be happy Sam. Isn't this what you said you wanted? Over the summer, after Piper?”

Sam laughs, his brother is right. “Yeah Dean, it is. I hadn't even thought about that.”

Dean stands up and, slapping his brother on the back, grins, “Go to bed Sam, it's late and I doubt, from the way you two were sprinting to his room when you found me, he's going to let you sleep once you get there.”

Sam blushes, but he grins too, and starts to follow his brother through the Bunker, “Thanks Dean.” 

They stop outside Dean's door and Sam puts his hand on his brother's shoulder, “Are you going to be okay?” 

Dean shakes his head, “I'll be fine Sam. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah Dean, Merry Christmas, goodnight,” he says before turning toward Olle's room at the end of the corridor. 

Sam stops outside Olle's door and thinks about the day. This is the first Christmas he can ever remember celebrating purely for the joy of being with family and, he shockingly realizes, they are, kind of, a mismatched, woefully dysfunctional family of sorts. The realization makes him smile, but it is short lived when he remembers Amara and why, how, they have all come together. What is coming worries him and he prays, for the first time since learning Lucifer was the one to give him visions. “God,” he says quietly, hand on the doorknob, head leaned into the door, “we've all come together in a haphazard tangle of dysfunctional family and I care about them, all of them; even Gabe and Luce. I'm asking, again, don't make anyone else suffer for my mess. They all deserve better.” Throughout the Bunker and leaned against a window in Paris, each angel, even Cas, hears Sam's prayer and marvels at the hunter's magnanimous affection. 

Opening the door, Sam slips inside and grins, arousal shifting back into high gear at the sight of Olle, naked and sprawled on the bed. As he starts to strip, quickly, he marvels at the immortal's near physical perfection. Dropping on the bed, crawling over Olle slowly, licking and nipping his way to the man's mouth, Sam sighs breathlessly as his weight drops fully on the bigger man. “Thank you,” Sam says with a happy smile, before starting to trail his way back down Olle's body. 

Olle pulls his legs up and wraps them around Sam's waist, running his hands through his hair as Sam travels down his chest, “Why are you thanking me Sammy?” he wonders breathlessly, voice getting deeper with arousal.

Sam grips Olle's hips and scratches his teeth down the immortal's oblique before looking up with lust blown eyes, “For giving me Christmas, a real Christmas, for the first time. For showing me how a real family is; for giving Dean that.”

Olle pulls Sam up so they are face to face, “I'm glad I got to give you both that.” He kisses him then, slowly, rubbing their whole bodies together and both men groan deep in their chests before pulling apart, “Merry Christmas Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I'm finished with True Detective! FINALLY! I'm still not sure I'm pleased with it; but I'm never really satisfied so...
> 
> Anyway, I'm moving on to the next installment. Which I haven't actually started writing yet, but I'm going to, soon. Thanks for reading! And thanks for being so patient with me; I feel like it's taken me forever to get this far. 
> 
> Enjoy!


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